Snowblind
by Dead.SummerXx
Summary: In a trial of insanity and hope, the fine line between truth and lies is nonexistent, and even the smallest of errors can blind one into believing the unbelievable. But then again, of what worth is a game when one does not have a worthy opponent? IzayaOC
1. Whisper Down the Lane

**Title:** Snowblind

**Author:** DeadSummerXx

**Characters/Pairing:** Izaya Orihara & OC

**Type:** Continuous (Incomplete)

**Genre:** Romance/General/Humor

**Word Count:** 2,467

**Rating:** M (Contains content suitable for mature teens and older)

**Disclaimer:** Durarara! belongs to its respective owners.

**Summary:** In a trial of insanity and hope, the fine line between truth and lies is nonexistent, and even the smallest of errors can blind you into believing the unbelievable. But then again, of what worth is a game when one does not have a worthy opponent?

**Created on:** 7/16/10

**Completed on:** 7/17/10

**Chapter Last Revised on:** 9/18/10

**A/N:** Haha holy crap it has been too long. It's good to be back, though, and with a new fandom no less. I feel really confident about this story, so hopefully it'll go a lot better than my last failed HP attempt. The chapters of this will switch randomly between the views of my OC, Izaya, and most likely a few other characters, very similar to Baccano! All of the POVS will be identified almost immediately, though, so don't worry about that. This chapter is just more of an introduction chapter, explaining a bit of background, et cetera. I'll try my best to update as soon as I can. Now, enough of my rambling. On with the show!

* * *

_Chapter One_

_**Whisper Down the Lane**_

* * *

My name is Suzumi Yanase, and I am sixteen years old.

I grew up in America, traveling all the time for my father's work. My mother left him a long time ago because of that. I don't miss her, because you can't miss something you never knew. I yearned for her, yes. I yearned for a mother to share things with and to mutually love, like all of the other children had. My father said that she loved me, but I don't believe him. Perhaps she did in a different time, a different life. But not now. Not ever again.

Because I moved so much, it was always hard for me to make and keep friends. I was always bullied, too. I was smarter than all of the other kids, and not just because I'm bilingual. That's when I stopped caring – when I quit worrying about the rest of society and connecting myself with it. I became involved in street fights as I got older, too, especially after my father died. I stayed with my legal guardian, my dad's best friend, when that happened. It was nice not to have to move places all the time, I admit. But that didn't necessarily make my life any better.

None of them were my fault, either. The street fights, I mean. I'm the type to always mind my business, but as I became more and more known in Los Angeles, where my guardian lived, more and more people kept seeing me as a punk wanting to pick fights with everyone. I always tried to calm them with words, of course, but that hardly ever worked. I hate violence, but it was the only way to get through to people like that. I've gotten injured quite a few times, also, but I guess it's true when they say whatever doesn't kill you can only make you stronger.

I hated life in LA. I hated the feeling that I got there, of normalcy. While my rather reluctantly violent lifestyle may not have been normal to a large percentage of the rest of the world's population, and I knew that it could have been a lot worse, it felt as though something was still not there, deep inside me. Like I was missing something important – like I wasn't complete.

That is why, on my sixteenth birthday, I decided that I would go and stay with my uncle in Ikebukuro, Japan. My grandparents originally immigrated to the US from Japan, my uncle having moved back about ten years ago. That makes me one-half Japanese and one-half German (from my mother's side). My father spoke his native language with me while growing up, so both English and Japanese are my "first" languages.

I was glad to be leaving LA – gladder than I had been in a very long time. Ikebukuro sounded like something new, something fresh, like an entire new world open wide before me.

It most certainly felt that way as I stepped out of the terminal in Ikebukuro airport, luggage in hand.

What seemed like thousands of people were chattering all around me, their voices nothing but a loud, booming mixture of indiscernible noises. I suddenly felt very alone and very small in this foreign setting, like I was somehow out of place. It was a strange feeling, alien like this location, but I welcomed it wholeheartedly. I was looking for change in Ikebukuro, and I had already found it.

My eyes tiredly scanned the numerous faces of the people around me as I made my way to sit on a vacant bench between two pillars. I vaguely remembered Uncle Toshiyuki from my early childhood. As I recalled, he was fairly tall for a Japanese person, had dark, messy hair that came down to just past his ears, and a very kind face and chocolate brown eyes. He was rather happy-go-lucky, the very opposite of my father, who was a serious and stoic businessman. It had been ten years, though, and a lot of things can happen to a person in such a large amount of time.

There was a sudden tap on my left shoulder, and I swiveled my head that way to look behind me, but no one was there. I recognized the trick almost immediately, sighing and dropping my head, allowing the barest hint of a smile to grace my lips. I stood, facing a pouting Uncle Toshiyuki, hands in my jeans pockets.

"Nice try, Toshiyuki-oji-san," I began disinterestedly in Japanese, "but I'm afraid I'm far too old to fall for such immature tricks any longer."

Uncle Toshiyuki huffed, hands on his hips and pout still contorting his features. "You're such a downer, Suzu-chan. And here I was, hoping you'd still be the same bubbly little girl I knew all those years ago." The pout dropped, a wistful smile splitting his lips. "Then again, I suppose its all part of growing up."

I smiled for real this time. All in all, he hadn't changed very much from when I last saw him at age six. The only real difference was that the lines around his mouth were a little deeper, the crows feet around his eyes a little sharper. He was still the same old mischievous Uncle Toshiyuki inside, though, and the thought was a welcome one.

"I suppose it is, also, Toshiyuki-oji-san. You yourself haven't changed much at all, though – not that I'm surprised in the least," I replied, stepping around the bench to stand directly in front of him.

Uncle Toshiyuki laughed heartily at that. "I'm not sure whether or not I should be offended, Suzu-chan. You on the other hand have changed quite a bit—and not only in personality," he said genially, taking one of my bags from me with one hand and wrapping the other around my shoulders.

What he said was true, I suppose. When I was six I was really small and my black hair was so short that it came down to my jawline. I also had blunt bangs, hundreds of freckles and a lot of baby fat. Now my hair was much longer and layered, coming down to just past my shoulders with my bangs sweeping off to the side. I still had freckles, but they were much fewer and much more faded. Most of my baby fat was gone, although my face was still round with youth. My teal eyes weren't so large in comparison to my head, either, and I was just over five feet tall and came up to his shoulders. I had grown a lot in the ten years I hadn't seen Uncle Toshiyuki – there's no doubt about that.

I shook my head, smiling faintly. "You should feel happy, Toshiyuki-oji-san," I replied to him amusedly. "It just means that you are still as youthful as ever."

Toshiyuki chuckled lightheartedly as we made our way out of the airport. "What a humbling thing to hear, coming from one so young."

We settled into a comfortable silence as we stepped out into the waning light of afternoon Ikebukuro. Uncle Toshiyuki's car was waiting for us in the lot, and we put my bags in the back seat before hopping into our respective sides. It was strange seeing how all of the driving was flip-flopped in Japan, but I tried to pay more attention to my surroundings than anything else.

Having lived in many places other than LA, I was used to the large city life – in America, that is. Japan wasn't much different, I suppose, but there seemed to be a different, more lively spirit about it – one completely different than what I had experienced back home.

The word broke me from that train of thought. Home? Was that what I really thought of America as? I had never really felt like I belonged there, anywhere in America. I never felt like I was meant to be there, like I was whole. On the other hand, that was where I had lived my entire life, where I had grown up, where I had learned everything I knew.

But as I listened to Uncle Toshiyuki chatter excitedly beside me about nothing in particular, I thought that maybe, just _maybe_, Ikebukuro could be.

I thought that maybe…Ikebukuro could be that home I had never had and always wanted.

* * *

I woke to the sound of Uncle Toshiyuki tapping gently on the door to my room.

"Suzu-chan? Are you awake?"

I groaned tiredly before slipping out of the warm comfort my bed and padding sluggishly over to where Uncle Toshiyuki was standing outside of my room – but not before glancing at the bedside clock. Seven twenty-two am. I stifled my irritated yawn and opened the door, revealing a freshly showered and awake Uncle Toshiyuki, who was dressed in a traditional schoolteacher dress shirt, tie, and khakis. I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms and rubbing at my sleep-crusted eyes.

"Now I am," I said, replying to his earlier question.

He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, Suzu-chan. I just wanted to make sure you were awake before I left. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, I guess. Probably the best sleep I've had in the past month," I said, blinking at him owlishly. Stifling yet another yawn, I continued, "And what do you mean before you leave?"

"Oh that's good," he said, like a great weight was taken off his shoulders. I don't know. Maybe there was. "And I work at the university on Saturdays teaching English, remember? Or did I forget to tell you?"

I almost smacked my forehead against the wall. Toshiyuki had, in fact, told me yesterday during dinner, but of course my shitty memory always had to try its hardest to screw up my head. "Oh," I replied. "Right. Sorry."

He chuckled warmly, clapping me on the shoulder like a father would. "Don't worry about it, Suzu-chan. You just woke up. I'll be back some time around two o' clock. There's food in the fridge when you get hungry, but if nothing is to your liking, feel free to go out to eat. I left three-thousand five-hundred yen* on the table, so you should be good as far as that goes."

I nodded, smiling sleepily at him. "Thanks a lot, Toshiyuki-oji-san. Not just for this, but for everything."

He smiled wide at that, eyes crinkling and ruffling my already sleep-tousled hair like he used to do when I was a kid. "I'm happy to help, Suzu-chan. You are my favorite niece, after all."

I smiled and playfully punched him in the arm. "I'm your only niece, stupid."

He pouted, hands on his hips and a mock-serious expression on his face. "It isn't nice for you to call me names when I could quite easily throw you out on the street."

I smiled again at his antics. "But you won't," I said confidently. "I'm your favorite niece, remember?"

He laughed kindly, throwing his hands up in surrender. "All right, Suzu-chan, you got me." Suddenly the jovial expression faded, turning serious – the most serious I had ever seen him. It made me uneasy, as much as I hated to admit it. "If you do decide to go out, though, be careful. While Ikebukuro may seem nice, it has a lot of hidden dangers."

I smirked at him dryly. "You forget that I've lived in New York, Chicago, LA, and various other large cities for extended periods of time. I can take care of myself."

He raised an eyebrow at this, a familiar twinkle appearing in his eyes. "Even so, that won't stop me from worrying – about you or the people you run into, now I'm not so sure."

I rolled my eyes at him, dismissing him with a wave of my hand. "Both, then," I said, settling for a compromise. "But I'll be fine. You, on the other hand, won't be unless you get going."

Toshiyuki looked as though he were about to reply, but then glanced at his watch. He jumped to life, realizing he was going to be late if he didn't hurry. He turned, jogging down the hall. "If you have anything you need, just call me! Mrs. Naoka next door will also be glad to be able to help!" he exclaimed over his shoulder.

"Have a good day," I shouted at him, barely catching his hurried "Ja ne!" as he dashed out the door. I walked over to my bedroom window and watched him start up the car and pull out of the short drive and onto the street, staring at the retreating vehicle until it disappeared out of my sight.

The small house suddenly felt very empty with just me inside of it, but I shook off the feeling in favor of going into the bathroom to wash my face, brush my teeth and hair, et cetera. The bathroom had a very American layout, so I was able to make my way around easily. When I was done, I headed over to my closet to pick out clothes.

I skipped over the various copies of my school uniform, of course. I was never a big fan of skirts or anything regulated. Instead, I just grabbed the first tank top, undergarments, socks, and pair of pants I saw and threw them on. They happened to be a dark teal tank that matched my eyes, black skinny jeans, and dark gray toe socks.

This was a kind outfit I usually wore back in America, but I didn't so much mind. Just to spice it up a little, I decided to put on some eyeliner and mascara and leave down my hair for once. I hoped I wouldn't stick out too much, as I didn't want any trouble in the slightest, but I could only hope.

I had already decided that I would be going out to eat breakfast and lunch, if only just to explore the town. I would be back before Uncle Toshiyuki, though, so as not to worry him. In all honesty, I was actually excited, for the first time in a long time. I would be exploring an unknown place, completely new territory. I was slightly nervous, yes; but all in all certain I could take whatever was thrown at me.

I pocketed my wallet before walking into the main room of Toshiyuki's—correction, _our_—home. It was small and quaint, but just right for the people living there. Grabbing the money Uncle Toshiyuki set out for me, I slipped on some flats and looked at the digital clock on my cell as I stepped out into the bright Ikebukuro morning. Almost nine. _Perfect_, I thought. _That gives me a few hours to get breakfast and look around a bit before getting lunch. _

I smiled, locking the front door behind me and walking into my new life.

* * *

*¥3500 is roughly forty USD (United States Dollars). If you're from another country other than Japan or America and are not familiar with either values, a currency converter should suffice to tell you how much it is worth in terms discernible to which you are accustomed.

Yay~! First chapter done! Tell me how I did, onegai. I haven't done anything like this in well over a year, so I'm pretty rusty. Things in _Snowblind_ are really slow right now, and there's no Izaya, but it will pick up soon! I promise you that! As for Izaya…well, you'll just have to see, won't you? –insert devilish smirk here-

Thanks for reading!

P.S. Look up "snowblindness" if you don't know what it is. The wiki article on it is very interesting! :P


	2. I Spy

**Title:** Snowblind

**Author:** DeadSummerXx

**Characters/Pairing:** Izaya Orihara & OC

**Type:** Continuous (Incomplete)

**Genre:** Romance/General/Humor

**Word Count:** 5,026

**Rating:** M (Contains content suitable for mature teens and older)

**Disclaimer:** Durarara! belongs to its respective owners.

**Summary:** In a trial of insanity and hope, the fine line between truth and lies is nonexistent, and even the smallest of errors can blind you into believing the unbelievable. But then again, of what worth is a game when one does not have a worthy opponent?

**Created on:** 7/17/10

**Completed on:** 7/26/10

**Chapter Last Revised on:** 9/18/10

**A/N:** Sorry that it's a little late…I, er, kind of broke my arm and fractured my hip falling down some stairs, so…

AND OHMAGAW GUYS. THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU. LIEK SRSLY. Haha I kid, I kid. Sorta. I mean, I _would _say there is something wrong with you, but that would be dissing the wonderful kombucha mushroom people that favorited and/or reviewed and/or subscribed to me/my story. Seriously. I never imagined in a million years that something like that would happen. As of right now, I have **two reviews, four story alerts, one author alert, and two story favorites** for/because of _Snowblind_. While that may not seem like all that much, let's just say I'm not the coolest cat on the block and leave it at that. So…yeah. A huge shout out to these cool people that did all of the aforementioned things! I seriously can't thank you enough, guys! This chapter is dedicated to all of you because you are just that epic~!

**GuSiRuLi**

**animalbones**

**Sorii**

**tetee**

**Frieda**

**coolpants**

**xx1yuna1xx**

**DancingSushi**

…And yes. You did, in fact, just read an SOAD reference from _Sugar._ That song is made of pure pwn. (Also, I sincerely apologize if I accidentally left anyone out. My yahoo inbox is a mess. x_x)

Just a sidenote, I stumbled upon a song that fits this story quite well. Go check out 'Bist du Das' by Juli. It's a German song, so if you don't know any unlike me then you'll have to look up the English lyrics. Maybe they'll give you a hint at what is to come~ (or not lmao xD)

* * *

_Chapter Two_

_**I Spy**_

* * *

I sighed contentedly, taking cautious sips from my steaming tea. A wide variety of wonderful, exotic smells assaulted my senses as I sat at the counter, poking lazily at my ootoro.*

I smiled as I watched as Simon, the Russian tout I had met outside, made his way around the small sushi restaurant (Russia Sushi – how creative) carrying plates of food back and forth. When I was looking for a place to eat breakfast earlier, I had seen the tall black man shouting something about fifty-percent off day in very poorly accented Japanese. I accepted his offer for nothing better to do. Simon seemed like a scary thug at first, but I could tell on the inside he was the very opposite. In all honesty, I quite liked him. He liked me, too, if the way he doted upon me and kept shoving sushi in face was of any indication.

Not that I minded, really. One of my major faults ever since I was thirteen was that I had a black hole as a stomach. Plus it was fifty percent off day, so what the hell, right?

I quickly drank down the rest of my tea, ignoring the liquid as it scalded its way down my throat before shoving the last of the ootoro in my mouth. Setting down my chopsticks, I sighed happily. I seemed to be doing that a lot lately, actually. Maybe Ikebukuro really was good for me.

Simon, as though magically sensing my sudden lack of food, came over and tried to set down a plate of oddly-colored tempura, but I quickly stopped him before he could.

"Thanks, Simon, but no thanks," I said, smiling apologetically at him. "I think I've had my fill for today. It was really good, though. Send my compliments to the chef."

Simon seemed to brighten at this, even though I could tell he was slightly disappointed at my leaving. "Russia sushi good, yes?"

I laughed, grinning brightly at him as I pulled out my wallet. "Russia sushi is very good. I'll definitely be coming again." I put the yen and a tip on the counter before waving goodbye to Simon, who waved back.

I was almost immediately swept away in the large Ikebukuro crowd as I stepped outside of the quirky restaurant. I decided to just go with the flow of the masses rather than just taking a planned stroll. I still tried to keep track of where I was going as I went, though, so that if I got lost I would be able to tell where I was.

It was roughly nine-thirty at that time, so I had a little over two hours to puts around before I would most likely become hungry for lunch. I crossed street after street, marveling in the wide variety of sights, sounds, and smells that surrounded me. Here in Ikebukuro, I could walk around freely without feeling like a wanted man. Or woman. Young lady. Whatever. I reveled in the feeling all the same, feeling like a giddy little preschooler again for the first time in over a decade.

I followed wherever my legs took me, pausing at random vendors to sample products or just idly chat about nothing in particular, before moving on to repeat the process. I stopped at a few shops along my random route, even going so far as to pick up a few little trinkets, like a new sleek black case for my cell, a pair of sunglasses, or a colorful wristband. They were all small, unnecessary things, but that was what made them special. They were items I never would have bought in America, because that was a form of frivolity that just didn't _compute_ for me. But Ikebukuro was different. I don't know why, or how, but it was exhilarating.

I hadn't realized how much I had been walking until my throat became almost unbearably sore from thirst. I ambled around a bit, eventually spying a vending machine a street or so down. I bought a water bottle before sitting down on a park bench just a ways over from it.

The park was in a quieter area of the city - which wasn't saying much at all, really, but it provided a much needed respite from most of the hustle and bustle. Mainly families were there, playing with their children in the playground area. A few teenagers and younger adults loitered around, too, chatting, hanging out, or just whatever. I sighed tiredly, leaning back against the bench and making myself comfortable. I squinted up at the sky, marveling in the familiar blueness and clouds. It baffled me that America's sky was so much the same, even though there and here were so completely different.

It was sitting there, water bottle in hand and peering up above, that I heard a loud, boisterous laugh coming from my right – a laugh that I would all too soon become very familiar with.

I tore my gaze away from the clouds and looked at the source of the disturbance. It was a couple of high school guys (figures) talking to a trio of girls – rather, it was a loud blond-haired boy doing all of the talking while the shorter, more plain, brown-haired boy stood awkwardly off to the side, hands stuffed inside of the pockets of his camo-themed sweatshirt. They were just a pair of guys, nothing unusual, obviously trying to pick up girls…and failing miserably at it.

I turned my head away from the mundane scene, smirking back up at the sky. For all the differences between Japan and America, the males never changed.

I was taking erratic sips from my water bottle and toying with my newly-purchased wristband (which had the kanji for light on it, by the way) when my hip began to vibrate. Or, to be more precise, the phone in the pocket at my hip began to. I pulled it out hurriedly, knowing that the only people who could possibly call me were Anna (my godmother) and Uncle Toshiyuki. As I flipped it open, I checked the time, noticing that it was just past eleven, cursing the fact I didn't have caller ID.

"Hello?" I questioned hurriedly in Japanese.

Uncle Toshiyuki's calm, cheery voice greeted me on the other side. "Hey, Suzu-chan. How are you?"

The words threw me off-guard for a moment. For one, Uncle Toshiyuki was speaking English. Second, his voice wasn't panicked or anything of the sort. Confused, I replied in turn, "Uh…I'm good. Why? Is there something wrong?"

Uncle Toshiyuki chuckled, the usually pleasant guffaws crackly and muffled through the phone. "No, no, everything's fine. It's just that I'm on my lunch break and wanted to check up on you."

"Oh." I sighed in relief. "That's good, then."

Toshiyuki hmm'd, and I could tell he was smiling. "So where are you? Did you decide to go out?"

"Yeah," I said. "I'm at a park right now. Earlier I went to this weird place called Russia Sushi, since it was fifty-percent off day or something. It was an interesting experience, to say the least," I continued, smiling at the memory of Simon.

He made a strangled sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, startling me. "R-Russia Sushi?"

I quirked a brow. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"Nothing, nothing." Toshiyuki was snickering almost breathlessly now. "It's just that Russia Sushi is known more for their exotic flavors than anything else."

I laughed, agreeing wholeheartedly with him. "Well, you know me. I'll eat just about anything that's edible," I said, smirking into the receiver.

"Yes, yes I do know you. Remember that time when you were five and you ate a worm?" I could hear the laugh in his voice, and against my will I felt all of the heat in my body rush to my face, ears, and neck.

Groaning, I facepalmed quite effectively. "Don't remind me," I grumbled, the disgusting memory still frighteningly vivid even after a decade.

Toshiyuki chuckled good-naturedly. "Alright, alright. But when was this? When you went to go eat breakfast, I mean."

I sighed, leaning back in my seat, settling my cell between the side of my face and my shoulder, leaving my right hand free to toy once more with my wristband. "About an hour and a half ago, I think. I'll probably be getting lunch soon."

"An hour and a half? What did you do in that time?"

I shrugged, even though I knew he couldn't see it. Impulse, I guess. "I just wandered around a bit, bought a couple of knickknacks, whatever. I sat down to rest my feet about five minutes ago, though."

"I see," he said, and there was a garbled sound. I could only assume he was chewing whatever food he got for lunch. "Just be careful, alright?"

My eyes rolled themselves of their own accord. "Yeah, yeah."

"If someone tries to grab you?"

"Grab _them _and deliver a swift roundhouse to the temple – or crotch. Whichever is quickest and most effective," I replied automatically.

Toshiyuki hooted loudly, and it took him a while to calm himself enough to reply without spewing unintelligible gibberish. I waited patiently for him to get over his fit, an amused smirk splitting across my lips. Finally, he cleared his throat, but when he spoke I could tell he was still dying to laugh. "I was under the impression that the more appropriate response would be to scream for help, but then again, I suppose you were never the _damsel-in-distress_ type."

"Damn straight," I said without any hesitation. That was the really cool thing about Uncle Toshiyuki – he didn't mind me cussing unless, of course, it was directed at him.

"Yare, yare," he groaned, reverting back to Japanese in his exasperation for a few seconds. "Now I just hope no one does try to nab you for _their_ sake."

"Hmmm," I hummed, smiling lightly. "So do I. Although I _do_ feel a little restless having not kicked any ass for over two days, so I suppose I don't really care either way."

"Whatever," Toshiyuki sighed good-naturedly. "I still want you to be careful. Just don't be going around looking for trouble, okay?"

"Okay," I said overdramatically.

"Good girl," he chirped happily, and I rolled my eyes.

"See you."

"Bye, Suzu-chan."

I closed my cell with a faint _snap_, rubbing tiredly at my kinked neck muscles. Pocketing my phone, I was just about to grab my water bottle and take a sip from it when two shadows fell over me, partially obscuring the sun. I looked up into the smiling, cheeky, boyish face of the blond-haired teen who was talking to the girls – who I could only guess to have run off – and the slightly embarrassed face of the brown-haired boy, who was avoiding my gaze completely. Great.

"…Can I help you?" I asked carefully, effortlessly slipping back into Japanese and raising a brow.

"Oh," the blond-haired boy said merrily. "My friend and I just couldn't help but overhear your conversation and recognize it as English. We were simply wondering if a beautiful tourist such as yourself needed any help getting around," he continued smoothly. The boy beside him pinkened considerably, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He probably wanted to be anywhere else, away from the threat of rejection.

I laughed slightly in response to Blondie's assumption. "I'm not a tourist. I just moved here from America."

He looked genuinely surprised at this, and I couldn't help but do a small victory dance on the inside. But then he smiled widely, and I felt a migraine swiftly approaching. "All the better then! My name is Masaomi Kida, and this here," he slung a casual arm around his friend, who tensed significantly, "is Mikado Ryuugamine! What do you say to a small tour around Ikebukuro, free of charge?"

"M-Masaomi…!" Ryuugamine-san (who's name reminded me of an AC) practically squeaked at his audacity. I couldn't help but agree with him.

"Actually," I said, standing up to my full height – which was a few inches off of Kida, god damn it all – and grabbing my water, "I was just about to get lunch."

"I see," Kida grinned, honey-brown eyes crinkling in response. "Would you mind if we joined you?"

Well damn. This guy was really persistent. But then I considered my options, eyeing his smiling face cagily. This boy was loud, boisterous, flamboyant, and an obvious ladies man – qualities which I didn't like in the slightest. His friend, however, Mikado Ryuugamine, seemed to have a straighter, if not more bashful, head on his shoulders. The more dangerous of the two was clearly Kida, and had it been just him I wouldn't have even considered anything before decking him in the face. But, of course, it wasn't just him. Ryuugamine-san seemed like a genuinely nice person, who would be able to reign in Kida fairly well.

Worst case scenario, the two of them would try to drag me into in alleyway and rape me, in which I could deliver the much-needed ass-kicking that had been making me so restless lately. Best case scenario, I would gain two new friends – correction, _friends_, period – and would not be so alone with just Uncle Toshiyuki.

I inwardly sighed. Being around family and having random little chit-chats with people I would most likely never meet again I could handle, but proper socialization was such a drag. If I were back in America, I would have just told the two of them to fuck off and let me get on with my hermit life. But I wasn't in America anymore. I was in Japan, looking for a fresh start, a clean slate.

In the end, I made my decision, and I could only hope I had made the right one.

I pasted on the best fake smile I could muster, awkwardness be damned.

"Sure," I said cheerily, trying desperately not to grit my teeth. "Why not?"

Much to my surprise, however, the false grin gradually eased into a true, genuine one as I walked with them to a café, Kida on my left, Ryuugamine-san on my right. It swiftly became quite evident that Kida (I still called him Blondie in my head, though) wasn't nearly as much of a jackass as I had thought him to be. In all honesty, he was just a fumbling, wannabe comedian goofball. Ryuugamine-san wasn't such a shy little rabbit, either, but just a socially uncomfortable teen with the tendency to always be blunt and speak his mind.

I decided that I liked them, or, at least, I think I did. I had never been one to make friends easily at all, but the two of them seemed to compliment my generally grouchy, sarcastic, and brazen disposition quite nicely. All of my sardonic remarks washed off of Kida's back like it was nothing, simply making another terrible joke and causing me to roll my eyes and for Ryuugamine-san to smile nostalgically. We talked about anything and everything, although I was surprised that neither of them had asked about my previous life or why I had moved to Ikebukuro.

When we arrived at the café, the waitress led us to an outside table, for which I was glad. It was a nice, sunny day out, and the air was fresh and clear. It would be a shame to miss a second of it.

Kida thanked the waitress as we sat down, winking playfully at her as she set down the menus. The waitress, a cute (dyed) auburn-haired girl in her twenties who's nametag read 'Aki' in violent pink marker, simply rolled her eyes and walked away. I resisted the urge to kick Kida in the shin from underneath the table. He may not be _that_ much of a jackass, but he was still a (failed) ladies man, something that I hated. Ryuugamine-san, amused, simply sighed under his breath and picked up the menu closest to him.

I did the same, my eyes skimming over the words, most of which were written in katakana in order to add a 'cool' effect, but not really seeing much of anything. I was in the middle of glaring down the beverage section when Blondie snapped his menu shut with a happy smile on his face. Both Ryuugamine-san and I glanced up at him.

"Have you decided yet, Masaomi?" Ruugamine-san asked, amused, as though occurrences like this happened often. They probably did.

Blondie beamed as Ryuugamine closed his own menu, settling his hands behind his head. "Yup. Pepsi and a BLT. You?"

Ryuugamine-san smiled timidly. "Just a water and a salad.*" He then turned to look at me politely. "What about you, Suzumi-san?" he added courteously.

"Um…" I quirked a brow and carefully shut my menu before setting it on the table. "I think I'll just be getting water and a Panini."

"So you're an Italian type of girl!" Kida practically crooned. "I knew you didn't look completely Asian!"

If this were an anime or a manga (which it wasn't), I would have sweatdropped. Unfortunately, I had to settle for inwardly headdesking. I could practically feel Ryuugamine-san do the same thing beside me.

"Um, no," I corrected him inelegantly. "I'm actually half-German, half-Japanese. I just like Italian food."

"I see!" he said gleefully, leaning forward on his haunches. "You never did tell us what brought you to Ikebukuro, though. I'm mighty curious to know what would motivate such an innocent girl to cross an entire ocean just to come here!"

I felt my brow tick at the word 'innocent'. I only he knew… "Well…I guess I wanted a change," I half-lied slowly, "and it just so happens that I have an uncle that lives here. Plus, I already knew Japanese. So I pretty much said 'what the hell' and took the first opportunity I had to come."

Both Blondie and Ryuugamine-san looked a little surprised at that, but then Kida smiled, and then looked to his brown-haired friend, who seemed genuinely stunned. "But…Suzumi-san," he began, blue eyes wide, "shouldn't you have put more thought into such a huge decision? I-I mean, you moved to an entirely new country just for a change…Something like that shouldn't be taken so lightly."

I smirked at him, but before I could reply, Blondie burst out laughing. "Oh, Mikado…! That's a good one. You should follow your own advice!"

Ryuugamine-san reddened out of embarrassment, a pout twisting his mouth downward. "M-Masaomi! My situation is completely different!"

Blondie was still chuckling breathlessly, one hand holding his stomach while the other wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. "Yeah right!"

"Pardon?" I asked, confused. I was completely lost.

Blondie sighed, smile still present even after his laughter died down. Grinning, he replied, "Mikado just moved to Ikebukuro a couple of weeks ago because he wanted a change too. The only reason he says that both of your situations are different, even though they really aren't, is just because he lived in Japan beforehand."

I quirked my lips at the both of them before redirecting my attention to Ryuugamine-san. "What a coincidence," I stated, smiling. "But to answer your question, Ryuugamine-san, I suppose that I should have considered the option more carefully. It didn't really matter either way, though. I didn't have anything tying me down to America at all," I continued, and it was true. I didn't have any friends in LA, only enemies. Even Anna was simply nothing more than someone to put a roof over my head, give me food, and pay for school.

"What do you mean, nothing to tie you down?" Ryuugamine-san asked, a dent forming between his eyes as his brows knitted together.

Blondie nodded vigorously. "Surely such a beautiful young woman has family and friends!"

I swore my heart skipped a beat. For a long, dizzying moment, I couldn't breathe. This was too much, too close, too soon. I had just met these people and I was already disclosing personal information. My sweaty palms clenched themselves for lack of anything else to hold on to as I swallowed hard, hoping that neither of them noticed my sudden episode.

Pasting on the best fake smile I could muster, I said as evenly as I could (which wasn't all too even at all), "When I was younger I moved around a lot. I never stayed in one place long enough to make or keep any friends. Before coming here, I had been staying with my godmother for the past two years in Los Angeles, but I guess you could say she wasn't the greatest person in the world. I'm also an only child."

I completely skipped the part about my parents. There was no way I would tell them about _that_. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Both of them were a little taken aback, and just as Kida was about to say something that would have probably made the situation worse, Ryuugamine-san quickly elbowed him in the stomach. Sending an apologetic glance in my direction (for Kida, himself, or for my situation, even if he didn't know much about it, I didn't know. I still don't. Maybe it was a little of all three), he waved down a waitress at the next table over. I decided that I liked Ryuugamine-san a lot more than Blondie, even if I didn't particularly mind his antics.

The waitress came over to our table, an annoyed sway to her hips. She didn't voice her irritation, though, and Ryuugamine-san simply told her that we were ready to order. Our food came quickly, and to my surprise it was the brown-haired boy that broke the awkward silence. I swear this guy was out to steal my heart.

"So, Suzumi-san," he began, "you're around our age, right? What school will you be going to?"

I set down my glass of water. After swallowing the liquid, I gratefully replied, "Yeah, I'm sixteen. I'll be attending Raira Academy starting Monday."

Blondie lit up at this. "Yatta! That's great! Me and Mikado go to school there too!"

Ryuugamine-san nodded vigorously. "I agree. Although it's a shame that you'll be a grade higher than us, since you're a year older."

Being as familiar with the Japanese school system as I was, I knew that sixteen-year-olds were generally second-year high school students, or more commonly known as sophomores in English-speaking countries. But simply because I emigrated from another country, I was given the option to redo my freshman year in Japan to compensate for my 'disadvantages' – even though I didn't really have any.

I shook my head at Ryuugamine-san politely. "Actually, I'm retaking my first year of high school in Japan. Apparently the school system thinks that because I'm from a foreign country I'll have some difficulty with Japanese education. Although, I suppose it doesn't really matter. It'll be easier for me, anyway."

"Really?"

"Awesome!"

I smiled calmly around my mouthful of food, wholeheartedly agreeing with them.

"This must be fate!" Kida all but swooned, and I refrained from choking. "Surely such a meeting between two beautiful beings like me and Suzumi-san can be nothing but divine intervention!"

I glanced at Ryuugamine-san severely, silently asking if he was on something or if he was just this batshit delirious all of the time. The blue-eyed teen simply shook his head in exasperation, and I could see his hand curl into a fist underneath the table – whether at the thought of decking Kida or stopping himself from facepalming I wasn't sure. Probably both.

I cleared my throat rather loudly, interrupting Kida mid-fantasy/monologue. Ryuugamine-san carried on from there, starting a new topic of interests, like music, hobbies, food, etc. It continued well throughout the rest of our meal, Kida cracking terrible jokes left and right.

I learned a lot of things about the both of them – how Ryuugamine-san was more of a folk music and classical type of guy and liked milder foods and studying (how boring, I thought – but then again I wasn't at all surprised), how Kida had more flamboyant, general music tastes and would eat just about anything and hated studying but loved videogames. I told them about how I was a fan of hockey, but didn't play, how I was more of a hard metal type, liked to read books, and was part of my high school's debate team, among many other things.

At that, neither Ryuugamine-san nor Blondie were surprised. They had learned throughout our time together thus far I didn't take lip from anyone or anything, wasn't afraid to speak my mind, and was always well-rounded, witty, and convincing in my arguments. Kida chuckled appreciatively, commenting lamely on my butch-ness, as he put it, and I really did kick him in the shin this time. He just laughed it off with Ryuugamine-san, though, and I couldn't help but the reluctant upward twitch of my lips anymore than I could help the fact that I needed to breathe.

When we had finished our food and paid, Kida suggested that I take him and Mikado-san (he had insisted that I call him such after the nth time that I called him Ryuugamine-san while he was calling me by my first name) up on the tour offer. I agreed without much hesitation, barely thinking twice. I didn't have anything better to do, and I trusted that if it was a nuisance to either of them they wouldn't have offered.

We stopped at a street vendor that sold popsicles and other frozen treats for dessert – on Kida's behest, of course. Neither Mikado-san nor I were fans of sweets, but Kida could be very persuasive when he wanted to be. Unfortunately for Kida, when he was doing one of his elaborate hyper-jumps mid-terrible joke, his ice cream flew out of his hand and nearly hit some woman in an expensive-looking dress suit.

Horrified, we hightailed it out of there before she could cuss us out or something equally un-amusing, ending up some few blocks away from her and Kida's soiled ice cream before we stopped. We were all laughing by the time we got there, though, even me, but then Kida had to pout for his 'one true love's death', as he had put it, so Mikado-san gave him his. I would have offered mine, but I had already eaten part of it and I just _knew _Kida would consider it an indirect kiss. Which was not cool. At all.

After that particular incident, the "tour" resumed virtually uninterrupted. For the most part, it consisted of main Ikebukuro attractions – Russia Sushi (in which I got to chat with Simon again for a bit, which was pleasant), Sunshine 60, et cetera. We even stopped at Raira Academy. It was closed, but it was helpful to know that it was only several blocks from my house. A fine morning jog distance, if you asked me.

Eventually we settled for walking aimlessly through the streets, just talking and having fun, Kida occasionally pointing out important stores and places while he wasn't jabbering or executing his signature fail comedy act. Mikado-san and I mostly talked about his life before he moved to Ikebukuro and how school was like for me (although I left out pertinent details, such as my not-too-vague infamy with the underground world), telling him how I had to work harder than most since my teachers never liked me – how school wasn't something I enjoyed, but succeeded in because I didn't want people looking down on me simply due to the rumor that I was a punk…Which I sort of was, but only because others forced me to be. I would have been just happy to leave them alone if they left _me _alone.

And then I happened to mention Baccano in passing, as I was telling him about how most of my "social life" was online in various forums and chatrooms (one of my "friends" had talked about it briefly and I had looked it up), and Mikado-san was suddenly alive. I swear this guy was absolutely obsessed with the series. I myself had to admit that it wasn't half-bad, and I wasn't even much of a fan of mystery/supernatural fandoms, but he was simply euphoric about it. We began a steady conversation on it, and Kida ended up tuning us out in favor of winking at passing (disgusted) girls of all ages, although he did try to focus our interest back on him with a couple of poorly-worded jokes (which we ignored).

But then our attention, and everyone else's around us, drew to the street as a chilling whinny tore through the air, swiftly accompanied by a hair-raising rev to an engine.

It was like I was in a dream. Coming down the intersection was a person garbed in all-black leather, mounted on the sleekest motorcycle I had ever seen. Their entire head was covered by a yellow helmet with cat ears and a strange blue S-like design. It was an odd choice that hardly matched, but it seemed strangely…fitting. The person moved like a wraith, graceful and haunting all at the same time. As they neared, time seemed to slow down almost inexplicably. I could have sworn this mysterious, beautiful person glanced at me for a split second, but it could have been my imagination.

And then they were gone, disappearing into traffic like nothing more than a shadow.

Time restarted itself. For a few moments everything was silent, and then an excited chatter broke out amongst the people around us. I looked to Kida and Mikado-san, who both had a small smile of wonder curling their mouths. Catching their gazes, I had to swallow hard before I could even hope to properly voice what was eating at me on the inside.

"What…_Who was that_?" I asked breathlessly. There was something undeniably _extraordinary_ about what had just happened, and I needed to know what exactly that was.

Kida laughed shortly, more a huff of air than anything else, his eyes sparkling so vividly with excitement I was almost taken away completely. Mikado-san was grinning brightly beside him with the same expression, and then they both spoke in unison, awe painting every word.

"The Black Rider."

* * *

*Ootoro is a type of Japanese sushi. In English, it's commonly called "super fatty tuna". It's really good, trust me. I can definitely see why Izaya likes it so much~

*I dunno, maybe it's just me, but Mikado just seems like a salad type of guy. Also, remember that they're eating at a café, which isn't very uncommon at all in Japan, as it is very westernized – which also explains the plausibility of Kida getting a BLT (he also seems like a BLT guy) and for Suzumi getting a Panini…which may not seem like a typical staple of café foods, but there's this café near where I live that has the best olive Paninis ever. (Dammit, now I'm hungry)

ARGH I LOVE CELTY SO MUCH.

…Ahem. Anyway, I apologize if I made Kida seem unlikable. I myself am indifferent to him (I don't love him but I don't hate him), but Suzumi is just the type of person who is uncomfortable and annoyed by loud, boisterous, and otherwise obnoxious things/people. Also he is very difficult for me to write since I am pretty much the opposite of him.

I tried to emphasize more so of how lonely and hermit-like Suzumi's life has been thus far (I think I failed –cries-) but it is still only the second chapter and character development has to occur over time (lame excuse lol). Also, I wanted to show that she isn't exactly socially constipated, just dislikes interacting with the general population. That wasn't so evident last chapter because the only person she interacted with at that time was Toshiyuki, who is family and someone she feels comfortable with.

My original goal when I set out to type this chapter was to make it a lot longer than the last one. I think I succeeded lmao. 5,024 words! I think my hand is bleeding, haha. Actually this chapter was twice as long as it is now (yeah, I know, you think I'm crazy), which is _way _too long for a single chapter, so I decided to split it in half and make the other part Chapter Three. It seemed like a good place to stop, anyway. Of course, this means that CH3 is already typed, so yay for me~ I could upload it right now, but I won't because I'd like to stick to a weekly update schedule. Plus I want to see the reception for this chapter and to also be slightly ahead in writing this piece of crap. xD

By the way, do you know how hard it is to type with just your left hand if you're right-handed? Gah. _Never again_. –insert excessive sobbing here-


	3. Apple Core

**Title:** Snowblind

**Author:** DeadSummerXx

**Characters/Pairing:** Izaya Orihara & OC

**Type:** Continuous (Incomplete)

**Genre:** Romance/General/Humor

**Word Count:** 6,153

**Rating:** M (Contains content suitable for mature teens and older)

**Disclaimer:** Durarara! belongs to its respective owners.

**Summary:** In a trial of insanity and hope, the fine line between truth and lies is nonexistent, and even the smallest of errors can blind you into believing the unbelievable. But then again, of what worth is a game when one does not have a worthy opponent?

**Created on:** 7/17/10

**Completed on:** 7/25/10

**Chapter Last Revised on:** 9/18/10

**A/N:** Frargh. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, even if it was a little bit annoying because I found myself slipping into first-person present-tense very often and making our dearest Izaya laugh way too much lol. I had to go back in and edit it quite a few times, and I quadruple-checked but I might have missed something. If you see anything just let me know so I can change it, kthxbai. Also, a huge thank you once again to all of you who are supporting this story! Your reviews and alerts always make my day and help me to keep writing!

Also, just a _**SIDE NOTE**_ (super evident for those naughty a/n skippers out there) this is partially a time skip – but rest assured it's only by a day or so. We left off on Saturday afternoon, but this chapter is _really_ early Monday morning. Sorry if it seems confusing, I tried to make it understandable but I already know what's going on and can't quite tell so yeah…

* * *

_Chapter Three_

_**Apple Core

* * *

**_

I shifted restlessly underneath my covers, trying desperately to go to sleep. But my mind would have none of it, defiantly stuck on the events that happened Saturday, my first official day in Ikebukuro.

_"What…_Who was that_?" I asked breathlessly. There was something undeniably _extraordinary_ about what had just happened, and I needed to know what exactly that was._

_Kida laughed shortly, more a huff of air than anything else, his eyes sparkling so vividly with excitement I was almost taken away completely. Mikado-san was grinning brightly beside him with the same expression, and then they both spoke in unison, awe painting every word._

_"The Black Rider."_

I couldn't get it out of my head. For _two days straight_ it had been stuck in my thoughts – the rest of Saturday, the whole of Sunday, and now today – and I had a feeling that it wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. This supposed mythical being that didn't have a head and was made out of shadow that Mikado-san and Kida had told me about…it just couldn't be possible. I had never even heard of him – her – it – before Saturday. The logical part of my brain argued that it was most likely someone just doing it for kicks, but another part of me couldn't deny that something had felt…different. Like something not of this world.

I closed my eyes in frustration before glancing at the clock on my nightstand for lack of anything else to take my mind off of its quarrel against itself. Just past two-thirty am. The bright red digits blinked slowly at me in the darkness, and I lay there for a moment, neck craned awkwardly, trying to keep my mind quiet. All seemed well, but then a flash of the Rider shoved itself into my retinas, and something snapped.

My head hit the pillow with a rather noisy _thwump_ and I groaned into it as loudly as I dared. _Fucking hell_, this was goddamn ridiculous. I had school at seven forty-five, and at this rate I wouldn't be getting any sleep whatsoever, even though I was drop-dead beat from settling my belongings in with the help of Toshiyuki earlier. What a great way it would be to impress myself upon my teachers and fellow peers by falling asleep during class, right? Fuck.

_Alright, that's _it, I thought angrily, shoving back the covers. The cool air hit anything that wasn't covered by my pajamas, causing goosebumps to rise along my exposed skin. I ignored the feeling, walking briskly over to my clothes hamper and pulling on the jeans I had worn earlier today. _If a short walk through the neighborhood can't calm me, then nothing can._

I was still wearing my tank top, but I forewent a bra in favor of laziness and covered myself with a simple dark navy blue zip-up hoodie. Tying my hair up into a short ponytail with one hand, I grabbed my cell and my copy of the house keys with the other. It was sad that I had to degenerate to walking around the city alone at one of the most dangerous times of the night, but I just couldn't see any other way. Toshiyuki would have a heart attack if he found out, but what he didn't know won't hurt him.

As silently as I could, I exited my room and tiptoed down the hallway. When I passed the door to Toshiyuki's room, I pressed my ear against it just to make sure he was asleep. As soon as I heard his telltale chortling snores, I knew I was in the clear. I walked faster down the stairs, still quiet, but Toshiyuki slept like a rock and it would take nothing less than a bulldozer to wake him. I slipped on my flats and locked the house door behind me, inwardly hurrahing at my small victory.

Sighing, I eyed the new nighttime Ikebukuro sprawled out before me and rolled my shoulders. Sucking in a chilled breath through my teeth, I decided to take a brisk jog wherever my feet wished to go. I stuck to the more abandoned parts of the city, slowing to a quick stride whenever people happened to be within seeing distance. Eventually I ran out of breath and stopped to lean against the building closest to me, hands on my knees and panting like no tomorrow. Against my own will the jog had turned to a run, but it let out some pent-up steam so I wasn't complaining.

When my heart and breathing rates had returned to normal, I swiped at my eyes with the sleeve of my sweatshirt before looking up at the building. It was old and rundown, and I highly doubted anyone lived there. A broken sign hung perilously half-off its hinges above a chained door, the katakana reading something like 'Love Hotel'*. I couldn't tell for sure, though, as it was night out, the sign was cracked, and I had only the moon and a dying streetlamp as light sources. I suppose it didn't really matter either way, though.

Then I spotted the fire escape that led up to the roof, which was flat_ and_ had a railing – the ideal sky-viewing site. The temptation was undeniably strong. I mean, I hadn't done any stargazing in years, not since I was a little girl and my father wasn't so stern. It had always been a pleasure of mine, and I couldn't help the intense pang of longing that shot through my heart.

"_Daddy, look! It's a flower!" I cried happily, pointing up into the sky to further emphasize my excitement. The night sky was bright and clear, perfect for stargazing. One particular constellation had caught my interest, nestled in between its brethren, but shining the brightest._

_Beside me, my father chuckled lightly. "Not quite, Mimi," he corrected gently, ruffling my short black hair._

_I blinked up at him, teal eyes wide. "What do you mean, Daddy?"_

"_That," he pointed to the same array kindly, "is Mensa, the constellation of Table Mountain."_

_An image of a huge rocky table appeared in my mind at that. _What a stupid mountain_, I thought. Scrunching my nose cutely, I voiced my negative opinion loudly, calling him on his "bluff" and insisting that he get glasses, because that was _clearly_ a flower and nothing else._

_My father just laughed it off though, pulling me into a hug. Reluctantly, I felt my childish ire slowly melt away in his warm, loving embrace. I was still pouting slightly when he shifted me so that I was sitting between his legs on the blanket, my back against his strong chest._

"_How about both, then?" he asked, smoothing his large hands over my shoulders. "Table Mountain is known for its beautiful flowers, after all – just like you."_

"_Huh?" I asked, turning and looking up at him. I didn't have any flowers at all._

_He kissed my forehead warmly before explaining. "Your name is Suzumi, from the Japanese words "suzu", meaning "bell", and "mi", being a synonym for "three". In essence, it means "Three Bells". The word "bell" in English is also another word for the corolla, or center, of a flower. That means you have beautiful flowers, too. Three bells – one for your heart, mind, and soul," he finished, pointing to my heart, head, and the middle of my chest respectively, making me giggle every time one of his fingers brushed against a ticklish spot._

"_Really?" I asked, awed._

_My father simply chuckled, cupping my face in his warm palms and pecking me on the nose. "Of course, Mimi. Your flowers are the most beautiful of all."_

A sudden sharp _clang_ pierced the air, breaking me from my thoughts. I whirled around toward the source of the sound, tense and ready out of instinct. But it was just a rat that scurried out of the shadows of an alley to my left. Slowly I relaxed, keeping my guard up all the same. I shook my head to rid myself of the last vestiges of the long-forgotten memory, trying to ignore the little voice that kept whispering in my ear. _("Why did you let them wither away, Mimi?")_

I cleared my throat quietly, mind made up. I ran a freezing hand through my hair as I quickly jogged over to the fire escape. I tugged on the rail as hard as I dared, the bone-chilling metal harsh against my unprotected palm. It still kept firm, though, and I hesitantly put one foot on the first step. Relieved when it didn't fall through, I added the other, and I was quickly walking upward at steady pace. At one point the stair I was on groaned loudly, the entire structure shaking with its force, and I could have sworn I was about to fall to my death. Luckily I didn't, and soon three am found me on top of the roof of an old, abandoned Love Hotel, staring out below.

Nighttime Ikebukuro spread out before me in the distance, a vast skyline of flashing lights and loud noises that I could hear even from so far away. As it turned out, I really was in an old warehouse district, and there wasn't anyone in the near vicinity. I relaxed against the outside of the roof rail, peering out over the ledge. I hadn't noticed it before, but just a few yards from the bottom of the fire escape was a large, dark splatter. A shiver ran down my spine when I realized that it was blood.

I shook my head of the morbid thoughts, opting to crane my head toward the night sky. It was what I came here to do, after all. I was a little disappointed when I found that the city lights blocked out a vast majority of the stars, but a lot of the brighter, more noticeable ones were still present. The white moon was half-mast, partially hidden behind a few wisps of clouds. I felt my mind settle, finally at peace.

My thoughts drifted lazily, mechanically pointing out the constellations that I could see. It was a practice I couldn't really help. Honestly, it was just like never forgetting how to ride a bike, only—

"So you're not going to do it, like all of the others?" a lazy voice drawled from somewhere behind me, snapping me from my peaceful reverie. "How boring."

I felt my body go rigid. Slowly, I stood up from my slouched position and turned, every fiber in my body tense and ready to fight. But nothing really prepared me for the sight that greeted me.

Leaning against the air vent hardly fifteen feet away from me was a young man dressed in all black, the only color on his person being the off-white furry lining on his warm-looking jacket. His jet black hair was short and stylishly spiked, bangs sweeping off to the side and barely reaching thin eyebrows and amused crimson eyes. His mouth was curled into a cruel smirk, twisting his otherwise attractive features. He was nothing at all like the street punk I expected, looking for a good one-sided lay. But there was still something dangerous about this man, and a certain part of me knew who he most likely was. No, correction. I was certain of it.

"_Is there anything else dangerous that I need to know about Ikebukuro?" I asked Kida, who was walking me home after the incident with "The Black Rider". Mikado-san had said he needed to get back to his apartment for something or another (my memory is shitty, so I couldn't tell you if I even particularly cared), so it was just Blondie and me._

"_Just a few," he replied, not joking for once, hands in his pockets. "Have you ever heard of the Color Gangs?"_

_I nodded my head. Of course I knew. The Color Gangs were national news back when they were really big. But as far as I was aware, now they were laying low and virtually not a threat after some big smack down a while ago._

_Kida nodded in turn. "Okay. What about Dollars?"_

"_Yeah," I replied. The internet and TV was buzzing with news about it all the time. "But they're supposedly unidentifiable, right? So there's really no you can warn me against them."_

"_I can tell you to be careful," he winked, but I could tell he was being serious._

"_No you can't," I replied dully, earning a blink of surprise. "I get enough of that from my uncle."_

_He laughed good-naturedly. "Alright, whatever you say…Then I guess that only leaves two people you should absolutely avoid at all costs."_

"_Who?" I asked, wondering what could be so bad about them._

"_Shizuo Heiwajima…and Izaya Orihara."_

"_What for?"_

"_Shizuo Heiwajima is probably the strongest guy you'll ever meet," Kida explained. "He can lift just about anything, whether it be trucks or vending machines or streetlights. His punches are enough to de-clothe people and send them flying several yards and then some. Never cross him when he's angry."_

_I blinked, stunned. No way in hell…_

"…_And this Orihara person?" I asked, almost tentatively._

_Kida suddenly stopped, and I nearly ran into him. He didn't seem to notice though, pulling his hands out of his pockets and clenching them furiously. He looked me dead in the eye, and I couldn't help but question inwardly what could have happened to make him like this._

"…_He's and informant," Kida finally replied, voice tense. "A crazy one at that. Capital A asshole. He claims he loves all of humanity, save Heiwajima, and shows his love by psychologically torturing whoever he can get his hands on. Usually he sticks around the Shinjuku area, but recently he's been showing up around here quite often. Stay far, far away from him."_

"_Alright," I nodded, knowing that he was definitely someone I didn't want to meet._

Unluckily for me, said capital A asshole was barely fifteen feet away. I clenched my sweaty palms, hoping that I was wrong. But somewhere deep inside me I knew, just from the vibe he gave off. Who else could it have been? Anyone else would have tried to assault me by now, I was certain.

"Izaya Orihara," I said flatly, his name strangely familiar on my tongue, echoing off the surrounding buildings like a mantra.

He seemed surprised for a moment, smirk faltering, but then it was back full-force and I knew I had hit my mark. _Damn it all_, I cursed inwardly, wishing I had just decided to wait out my incorrigible mind back home. But it was too late now, and the only thing I could do was try and do my best to manipulate his mind games to my favor. At the time, I had no I idea just how difficult such a feat would be.

He laughed giddily in response, sauntering his way over to me with a proud swagger to his hips. I swear, he was practically skipping. I fought the instinctive urge to back away, holding my ground out of sheer force of will.

"So you already know me?" he asked rhetorically, clapping his hands. "I must be just that famous!" he swooned, palm over his heart as he spun dramatically, and I was very glad for the rail that separated us.

But then he hopped over it, landing on the small ledge with feline grace (_like a panther,_ I thought numbly), and I scowled darkly as he sashayed over to look me in the eye. It only further irritated me that he had to bend down to do so, and I tried my best not to kick him in the shin and make him fall to his death. As though sensing the direction of my thoughts, he flashed me a devious grin.

"Yet I don't even know _your_ name!" he continued smoothly. "Care to share?"

"No," I sneered back boldly. "I think you already know it."

He had the gall to look insulted – the bastard – but I could tell it was incredibly fake. "Such arrogance! I never pegged you as the conceited type," he practically crooned.

I felt my brow twitch. "Am I wrong?" I asked rudely, but I didn't care. "You're an informant, right? It's your _job_ to know things about people. Besides, we've been talking less than a minute. That's hardly enough time to gauge a proper impression of any kind, which means that you've been watching me," I continued fearlessly. "Word on the street says that you like to mindfuck for shits and giggles. You wouldn't go looking for a new plaything unless you knew their secrets in order to manipulate them just so. You probably even checked my background before meeting me here tonight. No, scratch that. I'm certain of it."

I was livid. Being controlled was something that had never settled well with me. I'd been dealing with people trying to run every aspect of my entire life ever since birth, and I would _not _let this son of a bitch try to do the same for his own entertainment. I leaned forward, curling my lip at him defiantly. I hadn't felt this pissed at anyone in a long time, but the adrenaline felt good.

He laughed, drawing back from me a few steps and clapping his hands again. "This is great!" he exclaimed, leaning his hip against the rail. "_You're _great! I mean, I knew you'd be good, but _this_…This is phenomenal! I knew I hadn't made a mistake in choosing you!"

"Choose me for what?" I ground out testily, but inside I was panicking. There was no way anything _Izaya Orihara_ chose me for could be good.

He chuckled, winking at me. I refrained from showing my disgust. "_That_, my dear Suzu-chan, is something for me to know and for you to find out."

I glowered darkly at such an intimate use of my name. The only one to ever call me that was Toshiyuki, and such familiarity sounded _wrong_ on this demon's tongue.

"_Don't_ call me that," I commanded, pinning him with the most sever glare I could muster – which was pretty damn severe. Trust me when I say couple of years with assholes trying to beat the shit out of me every waking and otherwise second of my life taught me a thing or two about austerity.

It just washed off his back like water though, and before I knew it he was he was sidling up beside me again, even closer than last time, a dangerous spark in his bizarre crimson eyes. Much to my displeasure, I had to crane my neck slightly to look up at him, eyes narrowed.

"Then what do you want me to call you, hm?" he asked, voice like silk, smirking like he wouldn't care what I had to say anyway. He probably didn't.

"I'd prefer if you didn't call me anything at all and left me the hell alone," I bit back, and I wasn't lying. That guy unnerved me in so many ways like you wouldn't believe. It was like I was dancing on eggshells around him and being tugged along on strings like a marionette puppet bent to his will all at the same time.

He laughed again, the cruel sounds being carried away by a sudden cold gust of wind that nearly bowled me over. Stumbling slightly, I clutched my jacket closer to me as my hair whipped around hard enough for my ponytail to give way. My foot slipped on a loose stone, my heart and stomach jumping into my throat. I would have fallen if Orihara hadn't caught me, pulling me close to his warm chest.

I stiffened in his arms, fighting the desperate urge to sneeze as the fluffy lining on his jacket tickled my nose. Once the wind died down, he loosened his hold but didn't let me go completely. I would have fought to get away from him, but the ledge was thin and my back was facing the open air. Orihara knew it too – the fucker – if the way he smirked knowingly at me said anything.

I scowled at him and he laughed lightly before pecking me on the forehead, causing me to jump and elbow him in the gut. He merely snickered again, tightening his hold on my waist.

"You're so cute when you're flustered," he sang, causing the majority of the blood in my body to rise to my face, ears, and neck. I prayed that it was dark enough that he couldn't tell, but I honestly would be surprised if he had some freaky feline night-vision. Panther, remember?

"Go to hell," I snapped. He simply smiled in response and tousled my already mussed hair with one hand, the other still holding me flush against him.

"Only if I can take you with me, Suzu-chan! I think we'd have lots of fun in purgatory, ne?"

"What do you want from me?" I demanded impatiently, completely ignoring his question. It wasn't worth answering anyway.

He cocked his head at me, smile slipping into an amused smirk once more, like he was observing something particularly fascinating. "What do I want from you?" he repeated silkily. "Now I know you're smarter than that."

I bit my lip and glared, trying my best to resist the urge to give him a purple nurple through the thin fabric of his black shirt. The temptation was undeniably strong, though, and my hands were already on his chest. I could feel his heartbeat, steadily pulsing underneath my palm. I clenched them into his collar instead out of impulse to distract myself, tugging him down to my level with little preamble.

He acquiesced my unspoken demand quickly, and I could feel his coffee-scented breath on my face. He smelled like cinnamon and Earl Grey and something a little muskier, a little darker - probably Izaya himself. It was an undeniably pleasant combination, but I tried my best to focus on glaring him down to the best of my ability.

"Enlighten me," I hissed, causing his smirk to widen.

"You're really bossy, aren't you?" he commented flippantly, bumping our noses together and causing me to scrunch mine up. I narrowed my eyes at him, hands unconsciously fisting his shirt even harder.

"And you're a fucking manipulative asshole, so I guess we're even. Now answer my damn question," I growled.

He chuckled, leaning forward and angling his head so that our foreheads touched, his mouth slanted over mine just a few bare centimeters away. For a moment, he seemed as though he was going to kiss me (in which case I would have decked him without hesitation, threat of falling be damned) but then he smiled, eyes crinkling around the edges as he spoke.

"Why should I answer your question when you haven't answered mine?"

"Look, I already told you I'm not going to tell you my name because you already -"

"No, no, not that," he cut me off, dopey grin still present. "The question before. I asked if you were going to do it."

"Do what?" I demanded edgily.

"Jump, of course!" he exclaimed, a giddy light to his eyes. "That's the only reason anyone ever comes up here - save me, that is. I just like to watch."

My stomach knotted itself in revulsion. But then I thought about it – it might not work, but it was my only bargaining chip. "If I tell you will you release me without letting me fall?" I asked warily.

"Depends," he remarked, not missing a beat. "Will I like your answer?"

"Depends," I mocked, sneering. "Will I knee you in the groin?"

"Depends," he fairly purred, obviously enjoying this cat and mouse game. I wasn't entirely sure who was who, but I had an inkling that I was the mouse. Well shit. "Will I let you fall if you do?"

"Depends," I bit back. "I might just have to take you down with me."

"That hurts, Suzu-chan!" he exclaimed, knotting his brows together in fake sadness. "I mean," he continued, "I saved your life and all I get in thanks is sarcastic remarks and insults. That's really mean."

"Don't expect anything more until you save my life because you want to be a good Samaritan, not for your own sadistic entertainment," I snarled before adding, "And don't call me that, dammit!"

He threw his head back and cackled, the sounds thrumming beneath my fingertips. It was a strange sensation, one that wasn't entirely undesirable. Actually – _no, no, no, nonoNO._ I mentally kicked myself away from that train of thought. Sure Orihara was attractive, what with his sharp nose, thin lips, and slanted, beautiful crimson eyes and slightly toned chest – no, no, no. Fuck. Just fuck. Damn teenage hormones to hell.

I inwardly shook myself violently. This was not the time to be thinking about things like that, pressed flush against some sadistic psychopath who was currently laughing maniacally like no tomorrow while he held me on the ledge of a building, the only thing preventing me from tumbling to my swift, ugly death. Definitely not the time.

"Fine," I snapped, ceasing his laughter abruptly. He still seemed amused, though. "I couldn't sleep so I came out for a walk and saw this rooftop. I used to stargaze all the time when I was younger, but I hadn't in a long time so I decided that this was the perfect place to do so. I'm _not_ suicidal. And even if I _was_," I added, "I wouldn't kill myself by jumping off of a building and splattering myself all over the pavement. It's hideous and repulsive."

"Repulsive…?" he murmured, almost to himself. His head was cocked again, his eyes boring right into mine. I held his scarlet gaze steadily, determined not to lose this part of the game by flinching away. "That's the first time I've heard someone say that in this context. Most people think such a demise is poignant, falling through the sky and all that." The edges of his lips curled into a small smirk, and I could tell he was pleased by the thought of such delusions.

I 'tch'-ed loudly, earning a curious blink. "So you come here often then," I remarked wryly, then added, "And you should no by now that I'm not most people."

He chuckled dryly. "No, no you're not." Much to my surprise, he removed his hands from my waist. I was about to do the same with mine from his chest, thinking I was home free, but then they swiftly skimmed down my sides and clamped down on my lower thighs, hoisting my up around his slim hips. I yelped, lurching forward at the unexpected action, cheeks aflame. Before I knew it, he had spun around and placed me down on the thin rail, the cold metal burning through the fabric of my jeans. What the _fuck_—

"But that's what makes you interesting," he purred into the shell of my ear, causing a shiver to tingle down my spine and abruptly cutting of all trains of thought. I was a puddle of goo on the inside, and by the time I came back to my senses he was shaking slightly, trying to hold back his mirth against the column of my throat.

"_Son of bitch_—" I snarled, ripping myself away from him instinctively, only to fall short as the wind was knocked out of me.

As it turned out, moving backward at least slightly while balanced precariously on a railing could only lead to disaster. I landed on my back on the hard concrete with a loud _oomph_, legs slipping from their wrapped position around him. Unfortunately they were still up in the air, supported by the rail on either side of his hips. My elbows stung, having impulsively shot out to catch me before I fell. It didn't feel as though I broke anything though, but that was the least important thing on my mind at that moment.

Orihara was outright howling with laughter above me, one hand clutching at his stomach while the other gripped the rail for support. I flushed harder than I think I ever had before, still stunned from what had just happened. I took a swipe at his head with my foot angrily – not that my flats would have done much damage – but he merely swiveled aside to avoid it, still guffawing like no tomorrow.

He sniffed, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes as he hopped over the bar and crouched down on top of me before I could properly sit up. I scowled at my vulnerable position, pinning him with a harsh glare.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" I groused tetchily.

"But I let you go, didn't I?" he hummed, cupping the side of my face. The cold ring on his index finger smarted at my cheek, but I didn't flinch away so as not to let him win _again_. The temptation to bite off his hand was very alluring, however.

"I believe the express terms were '_without falling_'," I quoted crossly.

"I didn't though," he said, smiling lewdly. "You did that yourself. If it helps any, I was just as surprised as you were when you fell. Made for a good laugh, anyway. You know what they always say," he beamed, patting the top of my head, "'a smile a day keeps the doctor away'!"

"That's an _apple_, you dumbass," I snarled, finally giving into my irritation and slapping his hand away. "Now get the hell off of me."

Much to my surprise, he complied with my command immediately, twirling away a few steps without complaint. Quickly, before he could change his mind – which I was discovering to be very fickle, by the way – I scrambled to my feet, wiping at the invisible specks of filth on my clothing and straightening them as best I could manage, happy to be in control of my own space bubble once again.

"Let's see…" he hummed, hopping up on the rail himself and swinging his feet like a child. He practically was one, anyway. I glanced up at him, wondering what he was going on about before I remembered that it was my turn. "What do I want from you, you ask? Well isn't that the question of the night…" he trailed off musingly, gaze turned skyward.

I waited patiently, knowing that if I pushed him he could spin me in another web and completely distract me from what really mattered: getting down to the bottom of this.

"I keep tabs on just about everyone that goes in and out of 'Bukuro. It's where all the fun stuff happens, after all," he began, turning slightly so that he could look at me from the side, head still cocked, a smirk dancing around the corners of his mouth as he winked. "You, dearest Suzu-chan, are no exception. Imagine my surprise," he leaned forward, almost outright leering, "when I discovered a sixteen-year-old orphan girl immigrating from a shady background in America. That's something that doesn't happen every day, so I did a little more digging."

His eyes were gleaming with manic intent as he grinned excitedly at me, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to rise. Without warning he suddenly straightened to his full height, walking slowly toward me with an almost predatory aim, hands in his pockets. I fought the urge to run, holding his crimson gaze steadily, the very incarnation of stolidity on the outside while inwardly alarms were going off like gunfire. My heart was beating so fast that I could have sworn it would jump right out of my chest and onto the concrete for him to devour right then and there.

"Besides those things, it turned out you were exceptionally normal. Average grades, average interests, average spending, maximum time out of the house, et cetera. But then I happened upon something utterly…_fascinating,_" he purred silkily, rolling his tongue around the last word like it was some sort of rare confectionary as he stopped in front of me. "You," he pointed at me for emphasis, and I did a double take when I noticed the flick blade clenched in his grip, "_you_…are a fighter. You won't take anything from anyone, including various gang members who tried to take you down, even going so far as to decline assorted membership offers in favor of isolation. Usually that would be an unbelievably stupid thing to do, considering the protection such advances would have offered. But," he smirked (there was always a 'but' with him), "for _you,_ fighting off anything and everything that comes your way is nothing short of a mundane task."

"…And what you want?" I prompted quietly after a long silence, wary of the blade in his hand. It quickly became apparent, however, that I should have been more suspicious of his words.

He suddenly stepped forward, lightning fast, bringing our faces barely centimeters apart. Surprised, I caught his wrist in a tight grip as he brought his blade to my throat, my grip being the only thing keeping the cool metal from slicing through my jugular. Before I could demand and explanation, he was speaking again, positively thrilled and near hysterical with excitement.

"I want to know how!" he exclaimed. "I want to know why! And most importantly, I want to know exactly what it will take to conquer your resolve. I want to pick you apart from the inside out and examine everything about you there is to know. I want to dissect you alive and watch you bleed your secrets to me. I want to _crush_ you, make you _collapse_ into yourself and not be able to do a thing about it," he breathed. "You interest me, Suzumi Yanase. That intrigue has only grown from the past two days that I've been watching you. And now that I have you, I won't let you slip from my grasp so easily."

My breath hitched at his words. _This is…no way…_I thought disjointedly, eyes wide. This…this _psychopath_ was fucking insane if he thought he was going to…to do _anything_ to me. I felt a cold calm settle over my senses, an instinctual compartmentalization filter that blocked out all emotion. I gripped his wrist tighter with bruising force, knuckles white and jaw clenched. His fingers twitched, the blade barely piercing the delicate skin of my neck, causing a thin line of blood to run down to my collarbone. I ignored the stinging sensation, glaring hard at him as a heavy weight settled in my chest.

"And what makes you think you have me?" I finally asked, voice flat. "What makes you think that I'll give you anything that you want?"

"Oh, Suzumi," he murmured, almost tender and pitying at the same time, "I don't intend for you to give anything to me. I never expected you to. Which is why," he brought our foreheads together for the second time that night, earning bared teeth in return, "I intend to _take_ everything that I want, regardless of whether or not you wish to give it up."

I froze, scowl slipping slowly from my face, only to be replaced by an expression of utter horror.

"As for having you..." he chuckled darkly, moving his mouth to the shell of my ear, the pressure of the knife against my neck increasing despite my hold, "you were mine the second you thought of moving to Ikebukuro. And now that you know it, you won't be able to resist the undeniable pull. You came here looking for a diversion from the norm, right? Well I'm giving you one," he whispered, lips brushing over my sensitive skin, reluctantly hitching my breath once more.

When I didn't answer (what the hell was I supposed to say to _that_?) he pulled back, taking the knife with him. I let him go, his wrist slipping easily through my numb fingers. He grinned maliciously, a cruel glint to his haunting scarlet eyes (_like the devil's_, I couldn't help but think), gleaming bloodred in the pale moonlight.

"What do you say, Suzu-chan?" he purred dangerously, bringing the knife to his mouth and licking delicately at the blood – _my_ blood – that dripped there from the cold metal. "How about you and I…play a little game?"

In the end, he was right. The pull was undeniable. Izaya Orihara was an entire being of his own, an entirely different sort of person from the rest of the world. He put the _one_ in one of a kind. He was like a magnet, pulling everything towards him and twisting it to his will. I was no different, merely a pawn in his much larger game. But I myself had my own chess board, my own set of rules, my own set of questions.

In the end, I agreed to his terms – if only to make him bend to mine.

* * *

*A Love Hotel (ラブホテル, _rabu hoteru_) is a type of short-stay hotel found in Japan operated primarily for the purpose of allowing couples the privacy to have sexual intercourse. Personally I find that a little ironic, which is why I added it in there haha. It doesn't mean anything (or does it?) but I know all of you pervs are going to think that "the game" is going to involve sex at some point, you dirty fangirls! xD (…/boys? lmao)

And so the war begins! Ohohoho didn't see that coming didja? I'm so devious that crafts think I'm crafty. Which doesn't really make sense but you catch my drift right? 'Cause that would be sad if you didn't. Like really sad.

Woo character development tiem. I feel so proud of myself…And I also apologize if Izaya seems slightly OOC by telling her his plan. If anyone is confused about that and thinks it's something he wouldn't normally do, well let's just settle with this not being the normal situation, mmkay? This is way different from that thing with Rio, let me tell you. Suzumi is smarter than her and grew up very differently, and she's something Izaya has never experienced before. He wants to see what it takes to break her, remember? By stating his "plan" and being all touchy-feely, he's basically trying scare tactics, a common method of will-crushing. He's trying to figure out what makes her uncomfortable. If he said that to anyone else they would totally flip out on him. While Suzumi sort of is, her own pride and curiosity won't let her back down from his challenge, and wants to present him with her own in turn.

Hope that cleared things up if anyone was puzzled~

Also I just want to say that the thing about the meaning of her name was seriously just pulled from nowhere out of my ass, even if it is true lmao. Just go ahead and look up the parts of her name, synonyms for bell, and Table Mountain and you'll see what I mean haha. Last-minute research for the win. Actually Suzumi's original name was going to be Suzume (sparrow) Yanase, but "me" and "se" have the same end sound and I always hate that (its what my name does too) so I changed it to Suzumi. It sounds prettier anyway. xD

And for some reason this chapter seems really short to me, even though it's the longest one yet haha…Maybe it's 'cause I'm a fast reader? –shrugs- Oh well. I apologize for the long ANs, too, but I just can't help it…-sniffles-


	4. Red Hands

**Title:** Snowblind

**Author:** DeadSummerXx

**Characters/Pairing:** Izaya Orihara & OC

**Type:** Continuous (Incomplete)

**Genre:** Romance/General/Humor

**Word Count:** 8,091

**Rating:** M (Contains content suitable for mature teens and older)

**Disclaimer:** Durarara! belongs to its respective owners.

**Summary:** In a trial of insanity and hope, the fine line between truth and lies is nonexistent, and even the smallest of errors can blind you into believing the unbelievable. But then again, of what worth is a game when one does not have a worthy opponent?

**Created on:** 7/30/10

**Completed on:** 8/9/10

**Chapter Last Revised on:** 9/18/10

**A/N:** Hnng…Late again. But I have a valid excuse this time. My dad planned a surprise trip to my grandparents' place (read: Hell) and told me about it like two hours before we were supposed to leave. Seriously I am not joking. I was there since Friday afternoon and all weekend and they didn't have any internet whatsoever. Plus I wasn't allowed to bring either my comp or iTouch. I hadn't finished this chapter yet either so I had to wait for that until Monday and do the last editing today (I do all of my writing digitally so I didn't have a corporeal copy)…even though right now this chap is still sorta half-assed haha. I've also been super busy with translating doujin for the newly-founded scanlation group that I'm a part of called Yuumei Scanlations. Catchy, right? Anyway they've enlisted my services as part of their English/German translation and editing department and I've been working for them pretty much nonstop for almost a week now. The link to their official page and my profile is in my bio if you're interested in taking a peek. There isn't any material up right now but that's because our editors and cleaners are lazy-asses. At any rate, enjoy! :D

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* * *

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_Chapter Four_

_**Red Hands**_

* * *

_Click._

I yawned tiredly, blinking up at the running ceiling fan above me as I removed my hand from the alarm clock on my nightstand. I watched the blades move slowly for a few moments, savoring the warm peace and quiet that I knew would all too soon disappear. I felt my eyelids droop heavily, but forced them to stay open. Massaging my neck as I sat up, I scowled, having barely gotten four and a half hours of sleep last night. Damn Izaya Orihara to hell.

Groaning at the thought of that bastard, I halted midway in the process of climbing out of bed, cradling my throbbing head in my hands. It had seemed like a good idea last night, agreeing to the "game", as pissed and infuriated by his assholishness as I was. Now, however, all of that seemed like a distant dream. Nightmare, rather. Definitely nightmare.

None of my second thoughts mattered now though. I had consented, and Orihara himself said he wouldn't let me go. I might have just as well signed my soul off to the devil. There was no turning back, and now all that I could do was try my best to manipulate _him_ and spin myself out of his web.

Which I knew was going to be pretty damn near impossible, by the way. From what I gathered last night he was a master puppeteer who was used to always being completely in control of everything. The only thing that was good about the game, as far as I could tell, was that it presented such a huge puzzle.

For as long as I could remember, challenges had been weakness of mine. I had always loved mysteries, and enjoyed solving them even more. Izaya Orihara was the biggest one yet, and his lure was irrefutable. The game presented the perfect opportunity to dissect him, and I wasn't about to lose that chance just because he wanted to do the same to me.

I decided to try to not think about it the rest of that morning, though. Today was my first day at Raira Academy and I had more important things to worry about. I would be seeing Mikado-san and Kida again too, and I couldn't let either of them know what had happened earlier. Blondie would throw a fit, I was sure. He had told me to stay away from him after all, and if I was honest with myself his seriousness when talking about Orihara unnerved me. I didn't like that side of him; it just seemed so unnatural.

I ran a hand through my hair, sighing as I stood and made my way into the hallway toward the bathroom. I pushed any and all conscious thought out of my head as I shut the door behind me, opting to focus instead on the mundane task of getting ready for school. I washed my face and brushed my teeth before combing my hair and applying a small amount of makeup – just a small amount of eyeliner and mascara, like usual. I hated that raccoon clown look that most females sported these days. It just made them look like whores, if I wanted to be decidedly blunt. Which, obviously, I did.

Next came the uniform after I had walked back to my room. I rummaged through the closet, pulling out the dress shirt, blazer, thigh-high leggings, bow, and finally the skirt. I held the bottomless garment up with unconcealed repulsion. I had never been a fan of overly feminine clothing, and this was no different. Admittedly, the leggings helped by concealing skin, but that didn't mean I had to enjoy wearing the uniform.

Reluctantly, I reached into my sweatshirt pockets to remove my cell and keys (I had crept back in last night and was so tired from my encounter with Orihara that I had fallen asleep right away without changing back into my pajamas) so that I could undress myself, only to come up with just the latter object. I froze, staring blankly at the pressed metal in my palm before the dam broke. I frantically shoved my hand in the other pocket, finding merely lint and little else. Nearly hysterical, I patted down the rest of my pant pockets and when that failed, too, I flipped through my bed sheets, thinking that perhaps I had rolled over sometime during the night and it had fallen out. I moaned, literally facepalming when that turned up empty-handed as well. I had a pretty good idea where my phone was.

Fuck. Just damn it all. _Damn it all to hell._ Izaya Orihara – that _bastard_ - was _so_ getting a knee to the groin the next time I saw him.

* * *

Uncle Toshiyuki was waiting for me at the kitchen table when I came down from upstairs, sipping slowly at his warm coffee with one hand while the other held the newspaper he was perusing. He glanced up at me as I passed the threshold, but otherwise kept his caramel gaze fixed on some article about another murder supposedly executed by Dollars.

"'Morning, Suzu-chan," he greeted warmly.

I grunted, earning a chuckle in response. I had never been a morning person, even when I was a little kid, and he knew it, too. That coupled with the stupid Raira Academy uniform and my missing cell only made my mood worse. I tried not to show it _too_ much, though – it wasn't Toshiyuki's fault, after all. Instead I entertained my thoughts with various sadistic ways in which I could slowly and cruelly end a certain scarlet-eyed asshole's life while I poured my own cup of coffee. I was in the middle of fantasizing about shoving Orihara's dick so far up his own ass that it came out of his own slit mouth when Toshiyuki said something that nearly made me drop the pot and spill scalding liquid all over myself.

"You look cute, by the way," he remarked from over his shoulder. I glared at the back of his head darkly, clutching my coffee cup so hard that I almost broke my fingers. I grumbled some unintelligible swear words in German – something I had picked up from my freshman German teacher back in America – and moved onto vicious belt strangling with the Orihara Must Die Painfully front.

"I mean it," he said honestly, finally turning around in his seat and setting down the paper to speak to me properly. I cocked a brow at him, silently asking if he was on something. He simply shook his head and sighed, still smiling. "Not like that, you perv. Yeesh. It's just nice to see you in something other than old jeans and a faded tank top."

"There's nothing wrong with my day clothes," I defended grumpily, pouting and sinking my head down so that my chin was resting on the lip of my cup. I leant against the cupboard, staring out the window at a particularly uninteresting finch that had landed on the electricity line across the street, not in the mood to banter playfully for once.

"I never said that," Toshiyuki reasoned, and I glanced back at him before finally settling on him for good when I saw that the finch had flown away.

"I know you didn't. I'm not stupid," I mumbled, taking a sip of coffee. "You implied it with your tone."

"I never said you were stupid, either," he pointed out, rolling his eyes.

"I never said that you said I was stupid," I returned easily after blanching at the strong taste of the brown liquid. "And what the hell is this? Dirt?"

"It's not _dirt_," he moaned dejectedly. "It's my favorite brand. You just didn't add any sweetener, did you? And I never said that you said that I said that you were stupid," he added for good measure.

"No I didn't. It's early, so don't judge me. And I never said that you said that I said that…that – oh screw it." I whirled around, nearly slamming my coffee cup down of the counter as I reached for the sugar. It what way too early in the morning for such complicated thinking. The Imaginary Izaya in my head was now being restrained on a gurney while I slowly carved bloody patterns at random anywhere I could reach. Admittedly, his agonized screams helped, but didn't really ease my dark mood.

From behind me, I heard Uncle Toshiyuki sigh and stand up, his chair quietly scraping against the wooden floor. A pair of warm hands settled themselves on my tense shoulders, gently massaging as I felt his chin come to rest on top of my head. I relaxed reluctantly into the kind gesture, my glower slowly melting into a mildly troubled frown.

"Really, Suzu-chan," he began kindly, his breath gently ruffling my hair. "The skirt doesn't look bad, if that's what you're worried about. You're a beautiful young woman. A simple switch of clothing won't change that."

I rolled my eyes and turned in his embrace, coffee in hand. "Okay, _you're_ the stupid one," I said sardonically. "I can't believe you think I'm that shallow. I mean, sure its annoying, but I can handle it. It's not that big of a deal."

He winked at me, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "That's why I added "if", Suzu-chan. I know you're not shallow. But if it isn't the skirt then what's troubling you? I know it isn't just the time of day, so don't even try to fool me with that one." At my surprised blink, he cocked his head and kissed my brow. When he pulled pack, the grin had fully broken through. "I know you better than you think," he explained.

I sighed, wrapping both of my hands around the warm porcelain in my palms. "I guess the stress of the past couple of days is just getting to me," I finally said, only half-lying. I _was_ stressed – that much was evident. But Toshiyuki didn't know about what had happened last night. He most likely thought it was just the side effects of moving to such a new environment and the fact that I would soon be going to my first day of high school in Japan. While both of those things were important, I wasn't worried at all about them. Izaya Orihara, however, was definitely at the forefront of my mind.

Toshiyuki nodded sagely before ruffling my hair like he used to do when I was a kid. "That's understandable. I mean, you're still not fully accustomed to living here, after all," he said gently, only confirming my earlier suspicions. "But everything will be okay. I promise you that."

I paused in finger-combing my hair and looked up into my uncle's kind, grinning face. I felt an indescribable emotion well in side me - one that I hadn't felt in a very long time. That was the first time that anyone had said something like that to me in over a decade. I realized how much this man had done for me, how much he cared for me, and yet how little I did in return, feeling an odd weight settle in my chest.

Without warning to either myself or Toshiyuki, I flung my arms around his midsection, face buried in the junction between his neck and shoulder. Surprised, he stumbled back a few paces with me clinging to him before finally laughing and wrapping his arms around me. I inhaled his pleasantly masculine scent, something a little like aftershave and sandalwood.

"Thank you, Uncle Toshiyuki. Really, I mean it," I whispered into the collar of his dress shirt. "Just...thank you."

"You're welcome, Suzu-chan," he murmured gently against my temple, kissing the sensitive skin there tenderly. I tightened my hold around his torso in response, hoping fervently that my emotions were properly conveyed. I had never been much one for words, preferring to express what I felt through my actions. But with Toshiyuki it was different. It felt like I needed to do something extra, something above and beyond to somehow pay him back for what he had done for me.

After a few more moments of quiet, I pulled away and smiled a little tiredly up at him. He grinned back, pecking me on the forehead. "You're such a softie," I remarked wryly, playfully shoving him in the shoulder.

Toshiyuki merely chuckled. "You're one to talk, being so touchy-feely all of the sudden."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever." What he said was true, so I didn't have any proper rebuttal whatsoever.

"Oh, wait! Look at the time!" Toshiyuki suddenly exclaimed after looking at his wrist and promptly shoving his watch in my surprised face. I blinked at the clock hands, slowly registering the fact that it now was almost seven-thirty, a mere fifteen minutes before school started.

I jumped to life, quickly setting down my still full coffee cup before ducking under Toshiyuki's arms and practically sprinting toward the banister where my book bag hung. I was shouldering it and slipping on my flats, about ready to leave when Toshiyuki hurried over with a plain white box in his hands.

"Don't forget you're bento," he said, slipping it in my bag to help quicken the process. I nodded to him gratefully, giving him a quick one-armed hug before I dashed out the door, barely hearing his shout to have a good day.

"You, too, Uncle Toshiyuki!" I yelled back, and before I knew it he was out of sight, the various buildings and people merely a blur as I sped by. I had to slow down to a fast jog when I got to the more populated parts of Ikebukuro, but soon the large building of Raira Academy loomed before me. Slightly out of breath, I adjusted the strap on my back and began to walk forward, only to halt abruptly when a loud, boisterous voice called out.

"Oya, look! There she is!"

Recognizing the voice immediately, I turned and was greeted by the grinning faces of Mikado-san and Kida. They rushed up to meet me, earning a few curious looks from some of their – correction, _our_ – peers, but paid them no mind.

"'Morning," I greeted the both of them, smiling lightly. My mood had lifted somewhat, and for that I was grateful.

"'Morning," Kida said casually, removing his arm from around Mikado-san's shoulders.

"Good morning, Suzumi-san," the other brown-haired boy addressed me politely.

I nodded at the both of them, inclining my head towards the school. "Shall we?"

They came up beside me as I turned, Mikado-san on my left, Kida on my right. More strange looks were earned, but I did my best to ignore them, and so did both boys on either side of me.

"So," Blondie began, bringing his hands up to rest at the base of his neck, "you scared?"

I shook my head. "Not in the slightest."

"Somehow I expected an answer like that," Mikado-san said, amused.

I winked at him, smirking. "Of course. You should know me well enough by now that I don't care about what others think of me."

That earned a smile. Kida laughed. "We'd be idiots if we didn't," he said, playfully sticking out his tongue at Mikado-san and me.

I rolled my eyes and lightly punched him in the arm. "Damn straight."

The conversation settled comfortably from there, to anything and everything like usual. We hardly stayed on the same topic for more than several seconds at a time before moving on to the next one, from breakfast to dinner to TV to Dollars and so on. Soon, we parted ways to go to our respective lockers and to change shoes, and quickly met up again at the classroom door. It had been very surprising on Saturday when we discovered that I had the same classroom as them, but the coincidence was very welcome.

Most of the other teens inside looked up at me as we entered before erupting in quiet whispers. I raised a brow, glancing at both boys beside me.

"I'm going to go ahead and guess that the teacher already told you guys about me," I ventured flatly.

Mikado-san laughed sheepishly, while Kida nodded. "Well, not _you_, exactly," the brown-haired teen began.

"He just told us about a new student from America," Blondie finished helpfully. "Everyone is really hyped up about it."

I sighed, earning curious glances from Kida and Mikado-san. "I thought you didn't care about what people thought of you," the blue eyed-boy said, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I don't," I insisted. "It's just that they'll want to ask the same questions over and over again and I'll be treated like some kind of object to dissect. I've had a lot of those experiences before and they're really annoying."

"I guess I can understand that," Mikado-san said contemplatively.

Both he and I were startled out of our reverie when Kida suddenly jumped, tugging on my wrist like a little kid. I followed after him as gracefully as I could (read: like a wrestler in heels), Mikado-san tagging behind me as we stumbled across the room. Yay for more interested looks.

"K-Kida! What – ?" I was about to say but he cut me off, skidding to a dramatic halt in front of a startled girl with short-cropped hair, glasses, brown eyes, and a rather…_curvy_ bust, nearly causing me to crash into him.

"Suzumi-chan, this is Anri Sonohara, a cute and erotic friend of mine and Mikado's! Anri-chan, this is Suzumi Yanase, the famous and beautiful transfer student from America!" he exclaimed loudly, efficiently ceasing all sounds in the room. All of my fellow peers looked up from what they were doing, peering at us like we were animals in a zoo. I heard Mikado-san choke out a whispered "M-Masaomi…" from behind me and felt my brow tick. I tried not to body slam Blondie – the grinning _clown_ – into the floor. This Anri Sonohara girl was beat red, looking like she was about ready to pass out.

Our gazes met, and almost immediately something was recognized: Instant Friendship – someone to go to in the middle of Kida's insanity. I took pity on her, breaking the uncomfortable quiet. "Um…hi." Hey, I never said that I did it elegantly.

"…H-hello," she stuttered out in return, politeness ruling over all instincts to vanish into a deep dark hole and never come out.

"…Nice to meet you."

"…L-likewise."

Cue really, _really_ awkward silence.

Luckily, it didn't last a terribly lengthy amount of time, for the teacher came in just as the last bell rang. He was an ancient looking man (prune?) with a balding head and an extraordinarily slow walking pace. His voice reminded me of sandpaper and dead crinkling leaves as he told the class to settle down and get in their respective seats before asking me to come up to the front of the room. Kida grinned at me and released my wrist as he walked away, giving me a double thumbs-up (to which I refrained from flipping him the bird). Mikado just shook his head and gave me an encouraging look. I half-smiled at him and did as the teacher told obediently, feeling the stares of my classmates piercing into the back of my head.

"Alright, Miss," the teacher said politely in his rough, crinkly voice, "please write your name on the chalkboard in both Japanese and English and tell us a few things about yourself."

I nodded, picking up the white chalk stick and writing my surname with the kanji for "fish trap" (yana) and "torrent" (se), respectively, before moving onto my surname and signing the kanji for "bell"(suzu) and "three" (mi). Underneath the Chinese characters I wrote my name in English, given name first. When I was done I set the chalk down on the board ledge, turning around and standing off to the side for the other students to see.

梁瀬 鈴三_  
Suzumi Yanase_

"My name is Suzumi Yanase," I began calmly, while inwardly small coils were tightening in my stomach - I hated being put in the limelight, "and I am sixteen years old. I was born in Nevada, USA. I moved here because I was looking for a change of scenery. I currently live with my uncle, who is an English teacher at Ikebukuro University. _Yes_, my natural eye color is green-blue," I emphasized, "and among the many things I dislike, repeated and/or annoying questions from strangers nearly tops the list." _With Izaya Orihara being number one_, I added silently. "It is a pleasure to meet you all."

I could see Kida trying to hold in his snickers to my left in the third row and Mikado-san smiling to himself, hiding his grin behind his hand in the back near the window as I took my seat by some shy girl named Rio. I had just pinpointed some of the most blatant mysteries that my fellow peers would be curious about and pretty much told them they couldn't ask any more without pissing me off. I suppose I could see the humor in that – as could a few of the other more delinquent-looking students, apparently – but I myself was being dead serious.

That didn't stop any of them from still trying, of course. Fourth-period P.E. class required all of us to change in our gender-respective locker rooms. The majority of the girls cornered me once I was inside, spouting questions left and right – some slightly relevant, others amusing, but most just plain idiotic.

"What about your parents?"

"What's America like?

"Are the guys there good at kissing?"

"I love your nose!" (Which wasn't really a question but still very stupid)

"Is it true that most Americans own up to two to three cars?"

"Can you take me there?"

And so on. I did my best to ignore them, trying to change as quickly and quietly as I could – which wasn't really at all possible anymore when the girl next to me, a short brunette with way to much makeup, nearly shrieked in the middle of the impromptu interrogation.

"Oh my god! What happened to your neck?"

I froze in the process of tying the waistband to my shorts – which wasn't a suitable piece of clothing more so than a small strip of cloth, damn all of those pedobear school board members to hell - and attempted to register what she had just practically screamed. My neck? I moved one hand up to the smooth column, confused, until I _felt_ what she was talking high collars of my dress shirt and blazer had hidden it beforehand, but now that I was wearing a simple T-shirt with a V-neck and had my hair up in a short ponytail, anyone who cared to look could blatantly see the angry red gash across my neck where Izaya Orihara had nearly decapitated me the night before.

_Oh, shit_. I frantically searched my mind for an at least slightly plausible excuse for something like _that_. After decidedly ruling out the "crazy-red-eyed-vampire-with-possible-familial-relations-to-both-Ivan-the-Terrible-and-Dracula-and-a-personality-worth-shit-who-likes-to-stalk-slash-hunt-people-tried-to-decapitate-me-on-a-roof-last-night" theory (which wasn't horribly far from the truth) I settled on muttering out a lame, "Um, well – I, er, I guess I must have…have accidentally scratched myself last night or something…"

Most of the curious leers relaxed into exasperated glares thrown at the girl beside me, like the gash on my neck should have _so totally_ been something strange and exciting (which it was, but that was a detail only between Orihara and me) because they're sanity depended on it. "Jeez, Emiko!" one girl chided from across the room. "You're such a spaz!" I couldn't help but agree with her, but that got me thinking – how pathetic _were_ there lives if they were so interested in something so stupid and trivial?

I brushed it to the back of my mind, however, when Coach Asano called us out with his handy (AKA loud and annoying as hell) whistle that he used _way too much_ and squared us off into teams to play some weird Japanese variant of Dodgeball. Girls versus Boys. Typical, I thought broodily, but concentrated on kicking ass for the remainder of the hour. Which I did brilliantly, by the way. The Girls team won seven to four. Apparently this wasn't a regular occurrence, because nearly all of my fellow team members ran up to me after the fact and squealed and screamed happily. Distantly, I wondered if they, coupled with Coach Asano's whistle, would render me deaf by the end of the day as I asked said P.E. teacher if I could help with clean up in order to avoid any and all of my classmates. I saw Anri-san smile at me from across the room and I smiled slightly back, waving faintly. She nodded in turn before disappearing into the locker room.

I made quick work of the gym equipment (it _was_ free/lunch period, after all) and soon roughly eleven-fifty am found me back at my P.E. locker, hungrier than you wouldn't believe. The locker room was empty, the other girls already having changed and freshened up, for which I was grateful. I dialed the combination and opened the blue metal door, grabbing my shoes before anything else. I was about to take my sneakers off when something hit the tile floor with a loud clatter. Curious and slightly alarmed, I bent down after setting my shoes on the bench and picked up the object, freezing once I realized just what it was.

Lying innocently in the center of my palm was the thing that had been the object of my frustration earlier that morning - my cell phone.

* * *

I smiled giddily to myself as I spun in my comfortable office chair (_thank you_ _Charles Darwin_), earning a curious glare from the bland woman standing across from me. I couldn't help it, really. I mean, who _could_ stop smiling when they had finally captured the object of their fascination _and_ had nicked their cell phone? No one, of course. Especially not _me_. I had barely gotten any sleep last night because of it!

"Orihara," Namie Yagiri snapped, clear brown eyes narrowed into irate slits. I reluctantly pulled myself away from my inner thoughts, slightly annoyed as I twirled to a complete halt. I kept up my outer amused façade, however – which wasn't a _complete_ mask. Getting Namie all riled up _was_ amusing at the best of times, but nothing compared to Suzumi Yanase. Not now. Maybe not ever again.

"Now, now, Namie-san," I chided lightly, leaning my chin on my steepled fingers, "no need to get your panties in a twist, as the Americans would say." It was a pun on my part of course, and I couldn't help the slight upward twitch of the corner of my lips.

If Namie caught it she didn't show it, too seemingly mortified to register anything beyond pure fury. She looked like she was about to start spouting foul obscenities, but she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steeling herself. When her eyes opened again, I could see that she had reigned in her anger, even if she was still fairly pissed. I inwardly frowned. She would be _so_ much more amusing if she let loose once in a while.

"That isn't important right now, Orihara-_san_," she addressed me authoritively in a clipped tone.

"Then please, Namie-san," I replied breezily, wondering when the time would be that it _was_ important, "do enlighten me."

I could see, even from here, the muscles in her jaw twitch as she clenched her teeth. "You know very damn well what it important right now. My brother is _missing_, and yet you've done nothing about it!" she practically seethed.

"From what I recall," I said, bored, already having repeated the same thing several times this morning and last night, "you last spoke to him yesterday in the evening. My sources say he's still in 'Bukuro. There's nothing to be worried about. Kids do this stuff all the time nowadays. He'll show up again in a couple of days or so."

"B-but…he's with that, that _girl!_"

"_That girl_," I mimicked mockingly, "is the one you gave him, remember?"

"But she doesn't _love him_," the woman nearly snarled. "_Not like I do!_ She doesn't know how to take care of him!"

"Just because she stalked him?" I asked, amused. "If anything that shows true devotion."

"_You_ would think that," she finally sneered, giving in slightly to her fury. I inwardly did a little victory dance.

"No, of course not," I replied blithely, not missing a beat. "I don't love any particular person. Merely humans in general. They're just so…_amusing._" I flipped the deck of cards on my desk for emphasis, knowing that it would disgust her – which in itself was ironic, for someone who willingly conducted experiments and killed people "for the sake of science".

"Just find them and bring them to me!" Namie snapped, whirling on her heel. "Or else!" she threw back over her shoulder. The door to my office slammed behind her, echoing almost deafeningly in the silence. I snickered to myself as I stood from my chair and walked over to the coffee table where my precious layout of Ikebukuro lay. I lent against the couch, eyeing the white Queen Chess piece. I picked it up, fingering the lacquered wood almost tenderly. Without warning it snapped between my fingers easily, splintering like it was made of nothing.

"'_Or else_'," I repeated to myself quietly, chuckling breathlessly. _Or else indeed._

The short laughs morphed into full-blown cackles as I threw the ruined chips of wood on the floor before pocketing the black Queen and making my way out the door, a certain amusing ex-American's cell phone fit snugly in my coat pocket next to my flickblade. It was time pay a special someone a little visit.

* * *

I quickly scanned the contents of my cell phone, knowing full-well who had put it in my locker. I didn't find anything until I got to my Contacts section, however. With horror I realized that Izaya had inserted his own name with _hearts on either side of it, that fucking bastard_, underneath Mikado-san's number. I went to defiantly delete it, only to realize that Orihara had encrypted it with some sort of password which I couldn't even hope to crack in my state.

I groaned, frustrated. My cell hadn't been in my locker before P.E., so that could only mean that Orihara had placed it in there during fourth period. How he got in without anyone seeing him was beyond me, but I decided I didn't really want to know in favor of more pressing matters. I knew Orihara wouldn't just give me back my cell and leave. He _had_ to still be at school somewhere. There was no way he'd pass up the chance of a good mindfuck if it presented itself.

Just as I was about to punch my locker out of irritation, a series of happy beeps and vibrations sounded from the device in my hand and I blinked rapidly, recognizing it as a text message. I flipped it open quickly and selected the message, having a terrible feeling who it was from.

_**Sent by **_**Izaya Orihara**_** at 11:52 am **_

_You look really cute in shorts~ _ヽ(´ω`)/

I scowled darkly. _The_ nerve _of that son of a bitch. _I typed my reply without little preamble.

_**Sent by **_**Suzumi Yanase**_** at 11:52 am**_

_Pedo! _(╬ Φ益Φ)

_**Sent by **_**Izaya Orihara**_** at 11:52 am**_

(ΘεΘ;)

_Pretending to ignore me_, I thought angrily? _Let's see if you can ignore_ this.

_**Sent by **_**Suzumi Yanase**_** at 11:53 am**_

＼| ￣ヘ￣|／＿＿＿＿＿＿＿θ ( *o*)/

_**Sent by **_**Izaya Orihara**_** at 11:53 am**_

_You're so cruel!_ щ(ﾟДﾟщ)(屮ﾟДﾟ)屮

_**Sent by **_**Suzumi Yanase**_** at 11:53 am**_

_You deserved it and then some!_ヽ(ｏ`皿′ｏ)ﾉ

_**Sent by **_**Izaya Orihara**_** at 11:54 am**_

_Perhaps, but it's not my fault you're so adorable~_ (´；ω；`)

_**Sent by**_** Suzumi Yanase **_**at 11:54 am**_

_Fuck you_ (╬ Φ益Φ)

_**Sent by **_**Izaya Orihara**_** at 11:54 am**_

_Gladly, Suzu-chan~ But I just escaped from some risky business in Shinjuku and I don't think screwing an underage transfer student from America would help their impression of me, no matter how cute and sexy you are~_ ('A`)

I felt my face heat up at the imagery his words presented. Damn it. _Damn teenage hormones to hell. _

_**Sent by **_**Suzumi Yanase**_** at 11:55 am**_

_That's not what I meant and you know it! _

_**Sent by **_**Izaya Orihara**_** at 11:55 am**_

_Really? Last night you seemed rather flushed~_

I felt my heart jump into my throat. So he _had_ noticed after all. Shit.

_**Sent by **_**Suzumi Yanase **_**at 11:55 am**_

_Don't be any more of a conceited jackass than you already are! It was cold up there!_

_**Sent by **_**Izaya Orihara **_**at 11:56 am**_

_Whatever you say, Suzu-chan~_

I could tell he was lying, but decided not to press it. I didn't want to be any more embarrassed than I already was.

_**Sent by **_**Suzumi Yanase **_**at 11:56 am**_

_Why the hell are you here? And no lies!_

_**Sent by Izaya Orihara at 11:56 am**_

_Why, I came to give you back your cell phone and to visit you, of course~ And what? Lies? I'm insulted you think so lowly of me! ;A;_

_**Sent by Suzumi Yanase at 11:56 am**_

_I'm in school right now, in case you haven't noticed. I can't talk to you in person. And I have every reason to believe you would lie to me. The Game, remember?_

_**Sent by Izaya Orihara at 11:57 am**_

_Yes you can, Suzu-chan~ Anything is possible. And how could I forget?_

_**Sent by Suzumi Yanase at 11:57 am**_

_Well then if anything is possible is it possible for something to be impossible? _

_**Sent by Izaya Orihara at 11:57 am**_

_Very clever word choice, Suzu-chan~ But I'm being serious. Come and find me if you can! _:D

_**Sent by Suzumi Yanase at 11:57 am**_

_Find you? How the hell am I supposed to do that? Raira is huge!_

But there wasn't a reply. I waited nearly two minutes for him to answer before giving up and getting dressed. I sighed when I was done and pocketed my phone. There was only one place I could possibly imagine Orihara deeming safe enough for a rendezvous of this nature.

The roof.

* * *

I chuckled quietly to myself as read the last of her text message and closed my cell with a satisfying _snap!_ Really, that girl was almost too amusing for her own good. I had no doubt that she was smart enough to find me, however. The only question was how long it would take.

Luckily for me, waiting didn't last terribly long. About five or so minutes later a very cutely irate Suzumi Yanase threw open the door to the rooftop, bento in hand. I immediately jumped to life, skipping to her like my life depended on it.

"You found me at last!" I exclaimed happily, throwing my arms around her reluctant form like a little child. She stiffened in my embrace, clearly mortified and highly uncomfortable. I did a little victory dance on the inside, burying my nose in her sweet-smelling hair.

The moment was ruined, however – for me at least – when she barked at me to get off of her or else she'd knee me in the groin.

"I see you're still bossy as ever!" I cheered, although inwardly disappointed at our lack of contact as I obediently stepped away from her (I had no doubt she would keep to her word). Suzu-chan sneered as she passed me on her way to sit on one of the benches near the edge of the roof. I watched her calmly as she took her seat, folding her skirt with unconcealed irritation. She was cute in a skirt, too, I thought, feeling an almost lecherous smirk slide its way onto my face. I still liked her better in shorts, though. No leggings to conceal her skin. But it would be a different matter entirely if she were to wear the skirt without the leggings...

I was swiftly drawn out of my borderline pedophilic thoughts when Suzu-chan broke apart her dispensable chopsticks. I glanced up at her face, only to see that she was glaring balefully at me. I smiled mockingly back, causing her nose to twitch cutely like it always did when she was mad.

"Well?" she demanded impatiently.

"'Well' what?" I asked, feigning ignorance as I sauntered over to sit beside her, hands in my pockets and delicately fingering the black Queen within.

"You know very damn well what!" she seethed, viciously staking a piece of ootoro with one of her chopsticks out of anger. I laughed openly at the irony, as super fatty tuna was one of my favorite foods. This merely earned another nose twitch in response.

"Why whatever do you mean?" I asked innocently as I could - which wasn't really very innocent at all.

"You stole my cell and then gave it back, telling me to find you because you wanted to visit me," she began, her strange-colored eyes narrowing into furious slits. "So I found you, even though right now I'm supposed to be having lunch with my friends. Now what the hell do you want?"

"You could have just stood me up," I pointed out, blithely ignoring her question.

"Yes, I could have," she admitted through clenched teeth, "but I wouldn't have put it past you to go sauntering through the halls and confront me in front of my peers."

I chuckled at that. "Touché," I replied. I wouldn't have put it past me either.

"Now what do you want?" she demanded again. I was really beginning to warm up to her straightforwardness.

"I already told you," I replied, eyeing a piece of ootoro on her lap. "I wanted to visit you!"

"And?" she prompted.

"'And' what?"

She sighed, frustrated, knuckles white from their grip on her chopsticks. "What do you need to talk to me about?"

"Oh, nothing at all. I just missed you so much I couldn't help myself!" I sang, only half-lying.

I observed interestedly as her face went carefully blank, eyes closing for three seconds (I counted) before they opened again, emotionless as the rest of her. Well wasn't _this_ a new development?

"So let me get this straight," she began flatly. "_Last night_ you nicked my cell phone so that you could visit me at school because you missed me _today_."

"Yep," I confirmed falsely, merely playing along. In reality I just wanted to see what her reaction would be, like usual. I had a feeling she had the same inkling, if the way her nose kept twitching was of any indication.

"You're a jackass," she stated bluntly.

"And your a hotass, so I guess we're even," I replied easily, not missing a beat.

Her nose twitched again (so cute!). "I'm not even going to dignify that with a proper response," she said awkwardly, turning away from me to eat, a slight blush painting her face a delicate pink. I grinned excitedly at her uncomfortable expression. Yes, I decided.

Suzumi Yanase was _definitely_ too amusing for her own good.

* * *

"Suzumi-chan! Where've you been?"

I froze in the hallway, halting in mid-step just outside of the classroom. _Oh shit_.

Pasting on a sheepish smile that wasn't really all that fake, I turned around to meet the confused faces of my friends – Kida, Mikado-san, and now Anri-san. I was supposed to have met up with them at the classroom for lunch, but _of course _Orihara just _had _to go all Super Bastard Mode and prevent me from doing so. I couldn't tell them that, of course, so I frantically searched my mind for a relatively plausible excuse. I hadn't exactly planned on getting caught.

Resisting the urge to laugh nervously, I finally replied, "Aha, uh…Coach Asano said that I could spend lunch in his office helping him with paperwork. You know, extra credit and stuff since its mid-semester and all…" _Yeah, I _wish.

Mikado-san nodded in understanding, looking as though he was about to say something before Kida interrupted him loudly by laughing.

"You're lucky that pedo Nasujima-sensei didn't ask you to do that!" he exclaimed, clapping me on the shoulder.

I smiled forcedly at him again, not really knowing who this Nasujima-sensei was but having a fairly accurate guess as to his moral and ethical code pertaining to students of the female persuasion. "Right," I said through clenched teeth, resisting the urge to deck him in the face for invading my personal space bubble uninvited. Even though my mood wasn't his fault, I was still wound up from my encounter with Orihara.

As if magically sensing my discomfort and its impending consequences, Anri-san broke the silence calmly. "Good for you, Suzumi-san. Did you get to eat anything?"

Grateful when Kida finally released me, I smiled genuinely at her. "Yeah. He let me get my bento from my locker. Why do you ask?"

"Ah, um…I have some of my own food left over. I was just wondering if you wanted some. There's still a few minutes left of free period," she replied shyly.

I blinked, surprised. That was the first time anyone had done something like that for me. "Uh, thanks, but no thanks," I said, still a little stunned.

She nodded politely at me, about to reply when Kida again interrupted.

"Uwaaa!" he practically cried. "The two of you are so cute together! You and I are two lucky guys to be able to view such spectacular and erotic exchanges, Mikado!" he exclaimed theatrically, slinging his arm around said absolutely mortified boy and burying his head in the crook between his neck and shoulder. This particular display led to several curious and/or amused and/or unsurprised glances from the few people around us. I looked to Anri-san just as she looked to me, and as our eyes met again the Instant Friendship Bond (IFB) was re-strengthened once more.

The day moved frustratingly sluggishly from there on, as though somehow with his very presence Izaya Orihara had slowed time itself. I was so happy when the end of eighth period rolled around I nearly sobbed in relief. But I didn't, of course. I _was_ Suzumi Yanase, after all.

After I had gathered all of my things from my locker and changed shoes, I met up with Anri-san, Mikado-san, and Kida by the front gate to accompany them on their walk home. As per usual, Blondie cracked some absolutely gag-worthy jokes (that's a pun, by the way - oh wait shit he rubbed off on me) right off the bat, swiftly followed by amused smiles and/or rolled eyes and/or reluctant temperament restraint. The topic of homework picked up from there and carried on well through the middle of our walk, until something odd happened.

It was slight and unexpected, but I felt the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as though someone was watching me. A ran down my spine, causing me to momentarily falter in my steps. But it was enough. My friends stopped beside me, wondering what was going on. Mikado-san was the first to speak.

"Suzumi-san?" he inquired curiously.

I glanced back over my shoulder, noting nothing out of the ordinary – teens and adults alike a massive, never-ending swarm like usual. I dismissed my feeling then, brushing it off as paranoia. I shook my head and turned around, giving them a half-smile.

"It's nothing," I said. "Must have been my imagination."

Kida glanced at me weirdly, a mischievous smile crawling onto his lips. Before I knew it he had stepped in front of me, hand placed on my forehead and noses barely inches apart. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mikado-san and Anri blush awkwardly and I willed myself not to do the same.

"Really?" Kida finally cajoled. "Well, then if you're not feeling well then you should come over to my place and we could Play Doctor all night lo –"

"Honestly, Kida-kun," an all-too-familiar voice drawled from behind me, "I thought you had more style than that."

I stiffened along with the rest of my friends, knowing full-well who was behind me and trying not to snark back something along the lines of _"Oh and you _do?" I turned around slowly as Kida removed his hand from my forehead, pasting on a false innocent look.

"Orihara-san," Kida said with fake cheerfulness. "What a pleasant surprise."

No doubt seeing through the blond's façade quite easily, Izaya smirked cruelly. "Likewise, Kida-kun. It's been a while, hadn't it? I see you have a new friend here. Care to introduce me?" He glanced at me as he said this and I felt my brow tick.

"It's polite to introduce yourself first," I pointed out flatly before I could stop myself. Kida clenched his fist beside me and I mentally cursed. Why the hell was my self-restraint so goddamn low whenever I was near this scarlet-eyed bastard?

"I suppose it is," Orihara acquiesced, smiling like he knew a little secret I didn't. "But being polite is so _boring_, don't you think?"

Before I could answer (read: chew his head off), Kida stepped in and said, "Fine. Orihara-san, this is Suzumi Yanase, a transfer student from America. Suzumi-chan, this is Izaya Orihara. Happy?"

_Hell no, _I thought bitterly, just as Orihara said cheerfully, "Yes, thank you very much!"

"Well then," Kida finished stiffly. "We should be go –"

He was once again cut off when a deafeningly enraged roar tore through the air.

"IZAAAAAAAAYAAAAAAA!"

Orihara immediately jumped to life, stepping swiftly out of the way of a – wait, was that a fucking _vending machine_ that had just come hurtling through the air toward him? The large hunk of metal landed several yards away from us in the middle of the street, nearly crushing a couple of cars as it rolled noisily to a stop. I blinked, eyes wide. _No way…_

Izaya was chuckling breathlessly, although I could see he was very tense in anticipation of a fight. "Shizu-chan!" he exclaimed condescendingly as a blond-haired man around the same age in a bartender's suit came skidding to a halt just a couple of yards away from said jackass, streetlamp in hand. "Long time no see!"

Ignoring Orihara's cajoling, the man I now assumed to be Shizuo Heiwajima (great, right?) balled his fists angrily, an almost feral snarl ripping itself across his otherwise handsome face. "I thought I told you to stay the hell out of Ikebukuro!" he raged.

Orihara laughed, not denying anything. Just as Heiwajima was about to swing the streetlamp, however, he did something that completely shocked me, him, my friends, and all of the spectators around us.

One second I was standing off to the side, merely an observer; the next, hands were on my shoulders and I had dropped my book bag, staring into the surprised face of Shizuo Heiwajima. I could feel Orihara's mirth vibrating against my shoulder blades, him holding me flush against him with my back to his chest. I was frozen, trying to process what was going on.

_Orihara was using me as a shield,_ I thought, bewildered. _A _shield.

Across from me, Heiwajima was looking more pissed by the second, torn between backing down for my sake or beating Orihara to a bloody pulp despite my impending injuries if he did so. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Kida take on a grim expression, while Mikado-san and Anri-san wore similar looks of concern. I was stiff underneath Orihara's hands, a slow, glorious rage building inside me. It was one thing to play psychological mindgames, but something else entirely to physically put me in harm's way. The _nerve_…

"Now, now, Shizu-chan," Orihara fairly purred, his breath irritating the hair on top of my head and obviously enjoying this new development, "you wouldn't hurt a helpless, innocent schoolgirl just to get to me, would you?"

_Helpless? Innocent?_ Something inside me finally snapped at those words, and I gave into the urge that had been insistently gnawing at me from the second I had met him.

I wrenched myself from his grip and decked him in the face.

* * *

FFFF YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE HOW MUCH FUN I HAD WRITING IZAYA'S PARTS, THE TEXTING BIT, AND THAT LAST LINE. 8D

And lmao it seems as though I am incapable of writing a Toshiyuki/Suzumi scene without it being almost unbearably sappy. I tried to change it but Suzumi threatened castration so I backed off haha. xD

Oh and if you can't see some of the emoticons I recommend opening this window in Firefox. :P

Anyway thanks for reading and please review! :D


	5. House

**Title:** Snowblind

**Author:** DeadSummerXx

**Characters/Pairing:** Izaya Orihara & OC

**Type:** Continuous (Incomplete)

**Genre:** Romance/General/Humor

**Word Count:** 5,171

**Rating:** M (Contains content suitable for mature teens and older)

**Disclaimer:** Durarara! belongs to its respective owners.

**Summary:** In a trial of insanity and hope, the fine line between truth and lies is nonexistent, and even the smallest of errors can blind you into believing the unbelievable. But then again, of what worth is a game when one does not have a worthy opponent?

**Created on:** 8/13/10

**Completed on:** 8/14/10

**Chapter Last Revised on:** 9/18/10

**A/N:** Sorry this chapter is kind of rushed. I've been really busy lately with scanlations, friends, family, and life in general. Plus my old netbud Ash (LOVE YA BBY) and I have crossed paths again and we've been doing a Shizaya video collab with Vegas for a good part of the week. She's also been dealing with some plagiarism on the home front and I've been helping her sort that out. So yeah…Don't have much to say about this chapter, only that fight scenes are really not my forte and that I wrote the majority of this half-asleep, so be gentle. :D

Oh and before I forget, what about me finally adding titles to the chapters? I don't like to do that since it can give a lot away on accident, but when other authors don't title their chapters I get really frustrated. What do you guys think?

* * *

_Chapter Five_

_**House**_

* * *

The only sound I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears as I numbly watched Orihara stumble backward, clutching painfully at his jaw. Hammering loudly against my ribcage was my heart, rapidly pumping addicting adrenaline through my veins. My mind was blank, painted a brilliant red, focused solely in on the rage swallowing me whole. I clenched my throbbing fist tightly, _feeling_ the bones crack deliciously under the pressure before I lunged at him a second time.

Everything seemed to slow to a near-halt as I closed in on him. He glanced up through the dark fringe of his bangs, only to see me bringing up my knee in an attempt to bash his temple in, scarlet eyes wide with disbelief. Unfortunately, he twirled inelegantly out of the way just in time, faltering awkwardly on his feet, causing me to lurch forward and skid to a halt a mere yard or so away from him. I was about to charge him again when he whipped out his flickblade and pointed it directly at the center of my chest before speaking, his words slightly slurred from pain.

"Owww," he fake-whined loudly, cupping his jaw with his other hand. "That really hurt, Suzu-chan. You made me bite my tongue!" He opened his mouth and waggled said bloody appendage at me as though to prove a point. I wrinkled my nose in disgust at the grotesque display, ignoring his words in favor of making for him once more, only to be halted by his speaking yet again.

"Not so fast," he said breathlessly, and it took me a moment to register that he was actually _snickering_, that _bastard_. "I don't hit girls."

I sneered irately at him, feeling my insides clench with anger. "Well that's all the better for me then," I practically snarled, swiping at him for the third time.

He was fast, trying to dodge out of my reach, but I was faster. Just as he put his foot out to dash to the side, I brought my own up against his shin with a loud _crack_, taking pleasure in his subsequent grimace. I then swung my left elbow up to cuff him in the face again, only to be stopped by the hand not holding his flickblade. My own instinctively caught his bony wrist in a tight grip as he swiped at my shoulder with said knife. I glared at him fiercely through the tangle of our limbs, teal clashing violently with vibrant crimson.

"I thought you didn't hit girls," I echoed scornfully, tightening my hold on his arm.

He grinned condescendingly at me in return, fingers twitching around his knife. "I don't," he confirmed. "Stabbing them is much more entertaining."

I felt my lips pull back into a disgusted sneer, clenching my fist so tightly that my fingers ached and Orihara's entire arm tensed. I didn't care though. Any pain I could inflict on him was worth any sacrifice on my part.

I drew back swiftly, intending to bring my knee up and knock the wind out of him, only to be forced to dodge his flickblade or be chopped in half. I wasn't fast enough, though. The now-familiar blade sliced easily through the thin fabrics of my dress shirt and blazer, running a shallow gash across my abdomen. I hissed at the stinging sensation, pushing the pain to the back of my mind when he dove for me again. I managed to duck out of his reach and cuff him severely in the shoulder blade, but Orihara swiftly retaliated with a slash across my right cheek, just underneath my eye.

_Dammit,_ I swore mentally. _At this rate I'll be nothing but a loaf of bread._

I was about to bring my foot up for a roundhouse kick while he turned around, leaving himself open, when a loud whistling sound ripped through the air. Shizuo Heiwajima, apparently, did not like to be ignored when he was angry. I barely managed to duck out of the path of the flying streetlamp just in time, Orihara doing the same opposite me. I half-crouched in a tensed, ready position, trying my best to keep my eye on both Orihara and Heiwajima. While I knew that Heiwajima didn't have a personal vendetta out for me, he was definitely someone I would not want to inadvertently step on the toes of.

"You son of a bitch!" the blond man roared, hefting up an adjacent mailbox with little preamble and hurling it at said SOAB, who, having regained some of his balance, easily dodged. In return, the ex-bartender charged blindly at him, pulling back his fist in preparation for the first blow. Orihara changed his stance to defensive in order to evade the impending strike, and then suddenly it was as though a brilliant light bulb lit up in my head.

Not chancing a second thought, I rushed forward on the opposite side of Orihara at the same time as Heiwajima, aiming a punch squarely toward the middle of his spine. He was forced to dodge to the right, in turn giving Heiwajima an opening on his left side. Grinning sadistically, the bespectacled man lunged for his ribcage, clenched hand taught, hoping to cave in a lung or two or maybe the entire chest cavity—

—only for his fist to be easily caught in the grip of a much larger one.

I froze in surprise, as did Orihara and Heiwajima. I looked up at the gargantuan form of Simon, some of the red haze beginning to reluctantly fade. My thoughts partially cleared, I slowly took in his new appearance. While it wasn't much different from the last time I saw him, he wore a different headpiece and his haori was a dark blue with the characters for "Russia Sushi" on the shoulder blades. In his other hand he was carrying a paper bag with a similar logo. _Takeout_, I realized numbly. _Simon was delivering takeout. _

"No, Shizuo," the gruff man said in his terrible accent, addressing said ex-bartender. "Fighting is bad. Russia Sushi good, yes?"

The blond man blinked up at the taller Russian angrily for a few moments, before finally overcoming his shock and baring his surprisingly white* teeth. "Let go of me, Simon," he growled darkly.

"Fighting is bad," Simon repeated, only more forcefully. "Russia Sushi good, yes?"

"Simon—" Heiwajima began to threaten viciously, only to be interrupted by a short, amused laugh and a loud _clap_.

"Well," Orihara cheered, backing away slowly, "wasn't that fun? Oh, and thanks, Simon. You really should listen to him more often, Shizu-chan. He might be able to help you reign in your anger management problems!" He winked at the restrained and furious Heiwajima, spinning on his heel (I inwardly smirked at his slight limp) and beginning to skip off merrily.

While Heiwajima was struggling with Simon to make him let go, I lunged forward, still not done with the scarlet-eyed bastard. "Oi –" I began, but was cut off, nearly choked my own bowtie from the hand that clutched the back of my uniform. I reeled on my feet, trying to regain some semblance of my former balance, turning my head and glaring up at Simon. I felt a reluctant pang of shame at his disappointed expression, though. Dammit. I whipped my gaze forward again when Orihara finally spoke, however.

As though he had forgotten me but suddenly remembered, he turned, still skipping, and called back at me with a facetiously jaunty wave, "It was nice meeting you too, Suzu-chan! You're the most interesting one yet!" And then he was gone, swallowed up by the Ikebukuro crowd as his maniacal laughter echoed off of the surrounding storefronts.

Simon finally let go of me after a few moments, as though to make sure I wouldn't go running off and trying to kill him (the thought was admittedly tempting.) I rubbed at my sore throat awkwardly in an attempt to somehow ease the ache that throbbed there, scowling. I glowered down at my stomach, bringing my hand to the slight wound, eyes narrowed. Great, I thought. One uniform ruined on the first day.

A loud _clang_ drew me out of my thoughts, and I turned to see Heiwajima trying to bash Simon over the head with some length of pipe he tore from a nearby building. The scene oddly reminded me of whack-a-mole, and I felt my brow tick at its unadulterated immaturity. A tan-skinned man with dreadlocks and glasses was trailing after Heiwajima, trying to calm him down with some garbled gibberish along the lines of "fines" and "clients" and "punctuality". The last word finally made the blond release the grip on the pipe (although he did so by flinging it at a window, causing it to shatter, so that wasn't saying much) and reluctantly slouch, bringing up a smoke to his mouth.

He turned to me then, as he was lighting the cigarette, catching my gaze with his own blue-tinted one. I stiffened slightly under his piercing stare, hand still hovering around the gash Orihara had inflicted upon my navel just a few minutes before. Not knowing what else to do, I inclined my head at him, albeit awkwardly, and made to turn when his voice stopped me.

"Wait," he said, deep voice gruff as he took a drag from his smoke. "What's your name?"

I blinked in surprise at the unexpected question. My name? "…Suzumi Yanase," I finally replied, keeping my voice calm and even.

"Shizuo Heiwajima," he returned in kind, and I could see his eyes narrow with curiosity even from where I stood several feet away from him. It felt as though he wished to say more, but the insistent prodding from the shorter man at his side prevented him from asking anything further. He nodded curtly at me before turning with his partner and vanishing out of sight.

I sighed at his departure and looked around, only to realize that Simon had somehow disappeared. I frowned when I noticed most of the passersby staring at me with a confused mixture of shock, admiration, and/or horror, about to ask what the hell they were staring at when a loud voice nearly made me jump fifteen feet in the air.

"That. Was. AWESOME!" Kida practically screeched, coming up behind me and clapping his hands on my shoulders. I stiffened at the unexpected act, speechless from shock. _Awesome?_

"Y-yeah!" Mikado-san agreed, coming up beside his best friend at a slower pace, Anri-san in tow. I did a double-take when I saw the book bag – _my _book bag – clenched in his hands. Noticing my gaze, he sheepishly put it forward, and I accepted the offer gratefully.

"Thank you, Mikado-san," I expressed politely.

"No problem," he dismissed evenly.

"But really!" Kida insisted again, throwing his hands up and coming to a stop in front of me, grinning wide. "That was so amazing! Where the hell did you learn to fight like that? Are you sure you're not some secret CIA agent working undercover or something? Huh, huh?"

I looked at him flatly, unamused. "No."

"Awww," he moaned melodramatically, slouching in disappointment. "That would have been so kickass if you were…"

"Masaomi," Mikado-san chided lightly.

"I agree with Kida-kun," Anri-san said quietly, much to my surprise. "Where _did _you learn to fight like that?"

I felt my lips thin, unsure as to whether or not I should tell them. "…Experience," I finally settled on vaguely. All three of my companions looked at me with disbelief.

"'Experience'?" Kida echoed incredulously. "You gotta give us more than that!"

I licked my lips, adjusting the strap on my bag to partially distract myself. "Look," I began. "Just please drop it, alright? It's not that big of a deal."

Just as Kida was about to say something probably stupid, Mikado-san butted in. "It's the real reason, isn't it?" he asked rhetorically, causing me to glance at him. "Why your teachers disliked you and you didn't have any friends, I mean. You knew how to take care of yourself and the others despised you for it, thinking you were nothing but a punk. You don't want us to know about it because you think we'll do the same thing. Right?"

I looked at him openly with astonishment, my mind a mess of "what the hell?"'s. After a long moment of nonplussed silence, I finally shook my head in amazement. "Sometimes, Mikado-san, I really think you're too smart for your own good," I said, smiling softly despite the sting in my heart at his truthful words.

"And sometimes I think you're too stupid for your own good," he retorted sternly, causing me to blink.

"Pardon?" I asked, confused and a little insulted.

"None of those people knew you like we do," he said firmly. "Frankly, I'm offended that you would think so low of any of us that you would be under the assumption we'd abandon you just because you have a particularly strong hook."

Beside him, Anri-san and Kida nodded, the latter grinning dopily.

I was absolutely speechless. Never before in my life had anyone my own age been so kind to me. Everyone else had mocked, shunned, tried to beat, and/or been too afraid. Even my own father was eventually the same way. I had never dealt with a situation like this before. This was completely new and uncharted territory. While I may not have been completely socially constipated, emotions were never my forte. I could feel tears beginning to well in my eyes, but swallowed them quickly.

"…Thank you," I finally settled with honestly, and I could only hope that it was enough to express the feelings welling inside me that I couldn't even begin to hope to explain.

* * *

I closed the front door as quietly as I could behind me, slipping off my flats in the same manner. I had quickly walked back home after the incident in the street, wanting to clean up my cuts before they got infected – but most importantly to have some alone time. Pretty much ever since Saturday my days had been filled with people almost nonstop, one of those people namely Orihara, which was enough said in itself. I still wasn't completely used to so much in-person human interaction and I was fairly sure I would start to go stir-crazy if I didn't spend some quality time by myself soon.

I had been hoping that Toshiyuki wasn't home yet, and luckily he wasn't. Completely forgoing my spy-like demeanor as soon as I had double-checked the house, I quickly peeled off my blazer and, once I had entered the upstairs bathroom, chucked it under the sink. I would put it in a separate bag later to throw in the trash along with my dress shirt, but for now I needed it out of the way.

I did the same with said article of clothing, and soon I was standing nearly half-naked in only a bra and my uniform hips-down. I examined the slash across my abdomen with unconcealed irritation. For one, it stung like hell and was a bright red around the edges, probably meaning that it was already slightly infected. Damn. Secondly, it stretched all the way across my torso just above my navel before tapering off around my waist, meaning that anytime I bent down for whatever reason it would be stretched and pulled. I _knew_ I should have aimed for Orihara's nose.

But the only thing I could do now was disinfect it to the best of my ability and wrap it in a bandage. It would take a couple of weeks to heal and scar for a while after that, but that couldn't be helped. I took out a cotton pad from the cupboard and doused it in alcohol before relaxing as much as I could under the circumstances, knowing from past experience that it would make it slightly less painful.

I leaned back against the wall across from the mirror as I did so, dabbing the shallow wound lightly to test the waters. I hissed in response to the severe and all-too-familiar burning sensation, but quickly forced myself to carry on out of sheer force of will, bandaging it with cotton and gauze binding when I was done.

Next I moved on to the nick underneath my eye, applying some disinfectant to that as well. The fumes made my eyes and nose water, but I endured the temporary discomfort knowing very well what the consequences could be if I didn't. This one would be difficult to explain to Toshiyuki, I knew, but I could only hope that he would buy some lame P.E. excuse. There was no way in hell I would risk another infection by putting make-up on it.

I sighed and kneeled down stiffly when I finished, keeping my torso as straight as possible as I reached for my uniform shirts underneath the sink. I stuffed them inside the nearly empty bathroom trash bag, replacing it with a new one after I had done so. Quickly, I darted into my room and shut the blinds, setting the bag on my bed as I changed into something more comfortable. When I threw what was left of my dirty uniform in the hamper I took out a clean dress shirt and blazer to keep up appearances. It wouldn't do for Toshiyuki to find out via laundry, after all.

Now clad in a pair of skinny jeans and a black tank top, I jogged hurriedly downstairs in order to dispose of the evidence of my earlier scuffle. Just as I was about to round the corner into the kitchen, though, a hand came from behind and clamped down over my mouth, effectively stifling my shriek of surprise. Its partner securely fastened itself around my midsection, bringing my back flush against the warm chest of its owner.

I quickly recognized the now-familiar scent of coffee, cinnamon, and tea. The cool ring pressing into my cheek was a rather obvious giveaway too, I suppose. Behind me, Orihara chuckled, the hand on my stomach dragging across the bandages that lay there underneath my shirt. I resisted the instinctive urge to flinch away from the pain, for that meant bringing myself even closer to the red-eyed bastard that had inflicted the wound on me in the first place.

With the hand not clutching the trash bag, I clenched my fingers around his wrist, quickly halting the sting. The throbbing ache was renewed, though, and for that I stomped on his foot. Which wasn't the smartest thing to do when he was wearing shoes and I wasn't, by the way. Dammit.

"Now, now, Suzu-chan," he purred, lips ghosting over the sensitive shell of my ear, "no need to be so _violent._ I just dropped by for a little visit."

My decidedly explicit reply was muffled by his hand over my mouth.

He simply snickered again, nose prodding the cut on my cheek from the side. I could feel his breath fanning over the lower half of my face from the same direction, and I caught his amused scarlet gaze through the sideways curtain of my hair, glaring at him furiously. He was the absolute _last_ person I wanted to see at that moment.

_Let go of me, you bastard,_ I mouthed against his palm, and much to my surprise he acquiesced to my demand almost immediately. The hand over my mouth simply joined the one at my waist, however, which didn't really shock me. That didn't stop it from being unbelievably annoying though.

"I meant _all_ of me," I growled irately at him, turning in his embrace as best I could to glower at him directly in the eye.

"Too bad," he retorted childishly, smiling as he leaned his forehead against mine.

I frowned, eyebrow ticking. "Don't make me deck you again," I threatened. It wasn't a light one, either.

He merely 'hmm'-ed, hands moving underneath my shirt to my hips in order to rub slow, aching circles along them, eyes closing as he buried his nose in my hair. I stiffened under the surprisingly affectionate touch, breath hitching as I turned my head away from him. I couldn't deny that the slight massaging actions felt good on my aching hips, no matter how much I wanted to. But this was _Orihara_, for Christ's sake, even though I wasn't Catholic or Jewish or _anything_, and he was not supposed to be doing this just like I wasn't supposed to be leaning into him or stifling small sounds of approval –

"W-what…are you…doing here?" I asked to distract myself, trying (and failing) to keep my voice even. I wanted to ask how he got inside, too, but I figured I really didn't want to know.

"I already told you," he murmured against my temple, and I could tell he was smirking just from the tone of his voice. "I came to pay you a visit."

"I heard that…that part," I stumbled as he increased the pressure on my hips, a strange sense of déjà vu overtaking me as I thought back to our lunch meeting. "What I want to…know…is _why_."

"Do I need a reason?" he asked playfully, digging his thumbs into the sensitive hollows of my hipbones with just enough force to make me bite back a moan. Dammit. Dammit_dammit__dammit__**dammit!**_

"S-stop…_that_," I growled crossly, feeling a furious blush rise to my cheeks as I clenched my fists around his wrists in a white-knuckled grip. "And_ yes_,you do you b-b…_ahh_…STARD!"

I wrenched myself from his grip, bringing my right elbow up to land a blow to his sternum. Unfortunately, he laughed and jumped out of my reach just in time, causing my sensitive joint to ram straight into the rail. Swearing loudly, I stumbled backward away from the staircase, and, in effect, _him_, clutching at my agonized arm, mortified beyond belief. To think that he had actually made me moan _aloud_…!

"_You son of a _bitch," I hissed through clenched teeth, my hips still burning deliciously from the memory of his sinful touch.

Orihara had the gall to look slightly affronted. "That wasn't nice, Suzu-chan," he mock-pouted, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets, making me do a double take when the action made me realize that his customary fluffy jacket was absent. I couldn't help but notice the v-neck of his shirt, or the way his belt wonderfully accentuated his slender hips. _Dammit._

"I don't think my mother would appreciate you insulting her," he continued blithely, snapping me from my inappropriate thoughts.

"Mother?" I echoed spitefully. "I always thought you were raised by demons."

He merely smirked in response, sauntering over to me with a confident swagger. I straightened defiantly as he neared, on guard for any tricks he might pull. "Actually," he corrected, "both of my parents were completely normal."

"Really," I asked flatly, not believing a word.

"M-hm!" he confirmed happily, doing a weird skip-jump thing that I was becoming reluctantly familiar with. "Really." He grinned down at me, cocking his head, eyes crinkling slightly at the edges with mirth.

I narrowed my eyes at him, about to reply when I noticed something strange about his face. "What happened?" I asked, miffed. "I decked you earlier; your jaw should be a fucking monochromatic rainbow of purple."

"Oh, this?" He grinned, touching the side of his face gently with his pointer finger. "I have an absolutely lovely assistant that occasionally leaves her purse lying around. Her make-up really does wonders!"

I froze, slightly disgusted. I wanted to ask but knew that I would probably vomit at the answer. "Whatever," I finally grouched, stepping around him to pick up the fallen trash bag. I felt his eyes on me as I moved, and when I stood back up to ask what the hell he was staring at, the look in his eyes killed any words that might have been in my throat. He was half-turned around, hands still sheathed in his jeans, head tilted, with an absolutely lecherously pleased smirk dancing around the corners of his mouth. He was starting at my…at my _ass!_ The _pervert!_

I stiffened, absolutely furious and humiliated, glaring him down with a look that could _kill_. Unfortunately he must have been immortal or something, because he simply smiled back at me slyly, not hiding his blatant ogling or seeming to be the slightest bit ashamed of his borderline pedophilic behavior. I could feel the red haze beginning to seep into my veins once more, but I held back my instinctive and extremely tempting urges to bash his pretty face in. It would absolutely _not_ be good if Toshiyuki came home to a destroyed foyer and kitchen. At all. Wait, speaking of Toshiyuki…

I glanced at the digital stovetop clock quickly, taking note that it was just after three. Toshiyuki usually arrived home sometime after three-thirty, even though he technically got off just before three, staying late for paper grading and the like.

"You need to leave shortly." I turned to Orihara, who was still ogling me, only in a direction more northward. I crossed my arms over my chest protectively, never mind the fact that it only increased my cleavage, _'kay thanks bye_, and clenched my jaw. "Preferably right _now_."

"So soon?" he whined, finally looking me in the eye. "But I just got here!"

"All the more reason for you to get the hell out," I insisted coldly, stepping down on the foot pad on the trash can probably a little harsher than necessary and dropping the garbage bag with my ruined clothes inside down into it.

"Has anyone ever told you you're really bossy?" he said from right behind me.

I whipped around and gave a slight start when I saw how close we were. Dammit. How the hell had I not noticed him move? "_Yes_," I stressed angrily. "You've said it quite often."

"Have I now?" he pondered glibly for a moment, hands slowly coming to rest on my hips once again.

"Don't," I warned him, grasping his wrists tightly. And I wasn't just talking shit, either.

"Don't what?" he asked deviously, fingers beginning to knead the sharp bone there. He was playing with fire – he knew it, too, and he _loved_ it.

I crushed his wrists tighter in a white-knuckled grip, eyes narrowing into slits I could barely see out of (I didn't need to see anything but _red_, for what I was about to do, anyway), and bared my teeth. "_Don't—_" I began to snarl, only to be cut off by the muffled _thunk_ of a car door shutting outside in the drive.

_Oh shit._

* * *

I only had a short moment to think of how undeniably _cute_ Suzu-chan's deer-in-the-headlights expression was until I was violently grabbed by the collar of my shirt and roughly shoved into a semi-sitting position by the cupboards on the island countertop. I stifled a curse as the back of my head hit the handle on one of them. Apparently, her uncle was home early. It was quick thinking on Suzu-chan's part, most definitely, because however irrefutably amusing it would be to meet him under these circumstances, it would lead to a lot of unwanted questions and possibly a prison sentence, but it was still annoying. I knew she wasn't protecting _me_ – why would she? - though; but herself.

I grinned up at her from my very interesting position half-between her legs, catching her absolutely spiteful gaze before she looked somewhere toward the front door as the man I presumed to be her uncle finally came inside, pasting on the brightest smile I had ever seen her make.

"Hey, Suzu-chan!" I heard him greet her warmly in English, and I couldn't help the pleased smirk that crawled across my mouth.

"Hi, Uncle Toshiyuki," she replied easily in the same language, shifting her weight and leaning her elbows (one vibrant red, I couldn't help but notice victoriously) on the tabletop, giving me a very, _very_ interesting perspective on her upper torso. Unfortunately the position also meant that her knee had a lot of leeway in movement, so smacking me in the forehead was a very simple and effective way to stifle my snickers of appreciation.

I pouted moodily as they continued their pleasant conversation for several moments, not really caring to take the time to decipher what they were saying. My leg was starting to cramp painfully, still sore from Suzu-chan's earlier kick, and my head throbbed from her punch and subsequent kneeing. All in all it was a very uncomfortable situation, for the both of us. It was that realization that made me think of possibly the most ingenious thing in the universe.

Why not have some fun while I was at it?

I grinned deviously at the pure and utter awesomeness of the idea. Inwardly cackling, I slowly brought my hand up and clamped it around her knee, causing her to stiffen and stumble slightly in her conversation. I looked back up at her, seeing that she was getting steadily annoyed but still acting like there wasn't an insane man seven years her senior hell bent on dissecting her psyche crouched between her legs and currently fondling said very attractive and slender extremities. I had to admire her willpower, in all honesty. She definitely had a lot of nerve.

Smiling like the cat that caught the canary, I smoothed my other hand up her opposite leg starting from the ankle, stopping briefly at the sensitive backside of her knee to knead the firm flesh there, causing her entire leg to quiver – from what, I wasn't completely sure, but I had a fairly good idea if the slight flush staining her cheeks was anything to go by. I continued moving my hands slowly upward, massaging her lithe thighs with unconcealed excitement. Once I got near her very firm-looking and tantalizing rear, though, I paused; should I, really? I pondered her reaction. She would either A) continue with her oblivious façade (which wasn't very likely), B) kick and/or knee me, or C) start telling me off, alerting my presence to her uncle, which also wasn't very likely.

Her actual response, though, was one that probably stunned even her.

She jumped back with a shriek she quickly disguised as a surprised laugh, stumbling lightly on her bare feet, earning something I guessed to be an "are you alright?" from her uncle. She quickly brushed it off though, hurrying to his side before he could come over and check on her and subsequently find me. She spared me a short withering glare and a thumb to the door as she walked past, before the good-girl façade was brought up again and she ushered her slightly confused uncle off somewhere upstairs, giving me the chance to escape.

I quickly stood up before they could come back, hands tingling with the memory of her deliciously firm derriere as I walked out the door and locked it behind me, smirking all the while.

* * *

*Smoking reference. You know, how tobacco discolors teeth and all that jazz. Just in case you didn't catch my drift. ;P

Lol short, I know, but I needed to get this out in time because I hate to be late. At least it's humorous haha. xD

Oh and also I put a poll up on my profile. It's pretty frivolous, but I'd still like for you to check it out.

Thanks for reading and please review! :D


	6. Lonely Ghost

**Title:** Snowblind

**Author:** DeadSummerXx

**Characters/Pairing:** Izaya Orihara & OC

**Type:** Continuous (Incomplete)

**Genre:** Romance/General/Humor

**Word Count:** 6,217

**Rating:** M (Contains content suitable for mature teens and older)

**Disclaimer:** Durarara! belongs to its respective owners.

**Summary:** In a trial of insanity and hope, the fine line between truth and lies is nonexistent, and even the smallest of errors can blind you into believing the unbelievable. But then again, of what worth is a game when one does not have a worthy opponent?

**Created on:** 8/17/10

**Completed on:** 8/21/10

**Chapter Last Revised on:** 8/22/10

**A/N:** Gah, I can't believe it's been six weeks already since I started _Snowblind_! FFF HOW TIME FLIES. D8 Anyway, this was very…mleh…to write. Dunno what that means either lol. I was typing up an Outsiders TimDal giftic for Ash simultaneously, too, so I guess that distracted me a little? Haha anywho this chapter is a little longer than the last one because I know you guys hate short chapters (at least most of you do?) so yeah. Also, thanks to kurobunnyalice and AnimeCrazy88, who were the only ones to review last chapter. Your support really means a lot. Same goes for anyone who and/or otherwise expressed your awesomeness throughout the rest of the story. All of you guys make me feel super warm and fuzzy inside. :D

I totally lol'd at the poll results thus far haha. Most of you chose the 'lolwuttf is The Game?' option. Oh the woes of foreigners… xD

And yeah…still no word back yet on whether or not I should properly title the chaps…

* * *

_Chapter Six_

_**Lonely Ghost**_

* * *

I sighed as I leaned back in my room desk chair heavily, letting my limbs fall loose and my head droop over the backrest so that I could blearily see the computer screen staring back at me upside-down. Today, simply put, had been hell. I wanted nothing more than to just fall asleep right then and there where I was, but my moral and ethical sense of pride would have none of it. While it _was_ nearing midnight and I was technically supposed to be asleep, it had been—what? Two, three days since I had last chatted online? Those people had been my 'companions', per se, for the past two and a half years, and despite myself I couldn't help the pang of guilt at not having contacted them sooner.

…But, then again, that was Orihara's fault, wasn't it?

I felt my face flush hotly and squeezed my eyes shut, the kitchen scene obscenely vivid in my mind. I still couldn't believe that he had actually copped a feel, that _bastard_. He was looking for a rise out of me, I knew, nothing more and nothing less, but that didn't make it any more acceptable. He wanted a rise? Then he was damn well going to get one. Next time I saw him he was in for a hell of a surprise.

I groaned, bringing my hand up to rub my throbbing temple. He was way more trouble than he was worth, so I decided to try to stop thinking about him and flipped myself over in my chair and logged into the chat room with the black icon. It was a Japanese one I had found late one evening while still in the US, and I had hit it off with the people already there almost immediately, so coming back there again and again was a no-brainer.

_**Tsubomi**_* _**has entered the chat room.**_

_**Setton:**_ _Tsubomi-san! You're here! _

_**Tanaka Taro:**__ Long time no see, Tsubomi-san. Welcome back!_

_**Tsubomi:**__ 'Banwa.* What are you guys talking about? _

_**Setton: **__Nothing really - just Dollars again. Did you hear about the new murder? Oh, and how was your move to Japan?_

_**Tsubomi: **__It went fine, although it was rather exhausting. I made some new friends. _

_**Tsubomi:**__ And yeah, I did hear something about it. I didn't pay all too much attention though._

_**Tanaka Taro:**__ Wha? You've got to be kidding, Tsubomi-san! It's huge news!_

_**Tsubomi:**__ Ehh…I guess. I've just been too busy to focus on much of anything but moving and schoolwork…_

_**Setton:**__ That's understandable. But it really is quite alarming at how many deaths are in the news these days…_

_**Tanaka Taro:**__ I know what you mean, Setton-san. A lot of strange stuff has been happening lately. _

I snorted quietly, Orihara's smirking face surfacing in my mind. Tell me about it.

_**Tsubomi: **__Damn, you guys. My absence must have really depressed you or something to be talking about so much death!_

I tried to joke, but it was half-hearted, even for me. I was just so tired that I could hardly think straight. Guh. How I hated insomnia…

_**Setton:**_ _Haha, that's a good one! Though I do suppose that the thought is quite depressing…Well then have you heard about the girl that got caught up in a skirmish with Izaya Orihara and Shizuo Heiwajima earlier today?_

I nearly choked on my own spit. Setton knew about _that_? I mean, it _had_ been on the local news, but _still_. It was bad enough that Toshiyuki had to find out that way!

_I closed the door to the refrigerator, yogurt in hand. It was sometime around five or so and I was starting to get hungry, so the small semi-frozen treat seemed like a good solution to my slight hunger issue. Any signs of my previous appetite vanished, however, when Toshiyuki called me into the living room and the video on the TV screen nearly made me trip over nothing but air as my stomach flew into my throat._

_The images were very low-quality and poor, not to mention that the sound was pretty much nonexistent - obviously taken via cell phone. But despite all of that, a black-haired girl in a Raira Academy uniform could be easily seen knocking the living daylights out of a slightly older man in a furry parka-like jacket, who stumbled slightly back on his feet. The all-too-familiar scenario played out in front of me until it cut off just after Simon caught Heiwajima's fist in his, switching to a very prim business-like reporter woman in a straitlaced blue dress suit. _

"_The teen girl in the video has yet to be identified, although it is already known that she attends Raira Academy," she spoke confidently. "The only questions that truly remain, however, is whether or not she was the victim in this situation, merely acting in self-defense," I snorted, thinking _well duh_, "and whether or not we should be looking out for yet another violent troublemaker on the streets of Ikebukuro."_

_I tore my gaze away from the television when the segment finished, moving on to some stupid story about cows or something, awkwardly meeting Toshiyuki's flat gaze. He was peering at me over the back of the couch, one arm resting on the backrest. The silence was nearly unbearable. I shifted awkwardly on my feet as inconspicuously as I could, trying to alleviate the sudden uncomfortable ache in my joints. _

"…_Hi," I finally said lamely, stirring the yogurt cup in my grasp inelegantly with a spoon to partially distract myself, and to partially give my hands something to do to stop them from shaking._

_My poor icebreaker merely earned an unamused blink in response. The tense silence reigned once again, before after what seemed like forever Toshiyuki finally sighed and slumped down in his seat. I stiffened from surprise, having originally expected him to start yelling or something equally unpleasant. _

_Instead he simply motioned for me to join him on the couch without looking back at me, and I did so reluctantly, wary of what might happen next. I put a foot or so of space between us, unsure as to how to proceed. I simply waited as patiently as I could until he spoke at last. _

_His head lolled over to look me in the eye, caramel gaze slightly disbelieving, exasperation and slight awe painting his words. "You really weren't kidding about the whole 'deck and run' if someone tries to grab you thing, were you?"_

_If it were anyone else in any other situation I would have snickered. But it wasn't – this was Toshiyuki and he was genuinely peeved, so I stomped back my mirth and nodded solemnly, not chancing my voice lest it break._

_He sighed again. "Why did you lie to me about it, Suzumi?"_

_I felt my lips purse at the use of my full name. I had never heard him do that ever before and it was very disconcerting. "…Because I knew you'd worry," I admitted. "You don't need anymore stress in your life. It's not that big of a deal. The cuts will heal in a couple of weeks and then they'll be gone."_

"_I don't care so much about the cuts as I do about your welfare," he said sternly. "You do realize that thugs have televisions, right? Now you'll be in even more danger than before because of that stunt."_

"_Well what was I _supposed_ to do?" I asked defensively. "Just let him use me as a shield against a _streetlamp_? It was an act of self-preservation!"_

"_I _realize_ that," he chided firmly. "But you could have just stopped after you punched him for the first time. I know you're restless from lack of physical activity lately, but you took it a little too far."_

You don't know Orihara personally_, I wanted to shout. But I couldn't, because that would mean telling him _I _did and I needed to avoid that at all costs. "…Fine," I muttered quietly, just to tell him what he wanted to hear even though I hated having to do so. Yet another thing I needed to deck Orihara again for. "But that doesn't change what happened. I'll just have to be extra careful and walk with groups, I guess."_

"_Sounds like that's the only thing you _can _do," Toshiyuki said contemplatively. "On the days that I'm working, anyway; I'll have to drive you on the days I'm not."_

"_W-what?" I spluttered indignantly. An image of him driving me places with Kida, Mikado-san, and Anri-san while trying to win them over with his terrible show tune-singing skills popped up in my head, nearly making me gag. "Thanks, but that's not…not necessary, Uncle Toshiyuki. Really." _

"_What? Do you think I'll embarrass you or something?" he teased._

"_N-no, that's not it! At all!" I denied fervently, not wanting to hurt his feelings. "I just—"_

"_It's fine," he waved me off. "I get it. Really. I remember when I was in my teens and I didn't want any adults hanging around. I just meant if you need to go out for something and your friends aren't available, or if we went somewhere together."_

"_O-oh," I said, trying not to let too much relief flood my voice. _

"_Only on one condition, though, otherwise I'll be driving you everywhere, including places with your friends," he added, smiling in a way that made my stomach churn with nervousness. _

"…_What is it?" I asked after a moment of hesitation. _

"_You have to help me grade papers. Midterms are coming up, after all!"_

Just thinking back on it made my head and wrists throb. Grading papers was possibly the most severe way to inflict mental agony known to mankind, besides Chinese water torture.

_**Tsubomi:**_ _Yeah, I saw the video on the news. _

_**Tanaka Taro:**__ She was really great, don't you think? I actually witnessed the whole thing while walking home from school with my friends. _

I blinked, surprised. _Seriously?_ Tanaka Taro and I were that near one another and never even knew it?

_**Setton:**__ Really? That's awesome! Was it even cooler up close?_

_**Tanaka Taro:**__ Yeah, it was. They were all moving so fast I could hardly even keep up!_

_**Kanra has entered the chat room. **_

_**Setton:**__ Kanra-san, welcome back! We were just talking about the girl that got mixed up with Shizuo Heiwajima and Izaya Orihara earlier today._

_**Kanra:**__ Thanks, Setton-san~_

_**Kanra:**__ And oh? I saw that on the news! The punch she gave to Orihara looked like it really hurt~_

I couldn't help the almost wicked grin that crawled across my lips. I certainly hoped so. That bastard definitely deserved it.

_**Tsubomi:**__ It probably did. I don't blame her though - she was more than justified in decking him like that._

_**Tanaka Taro:**__ Yeah, I agree. Although I bet it took a lot of guts to do it._

_**Kanra:**__ You think so? In my opinion he was simply looking for a way to defend himself. Heiwajima seems like a really scary guy~_

_**Setton:**__ I guess I can see your point, but I don't think he's ever used a tactic like that before…_

_**Tsubomi:**__ Personally, I think he just wanted to get a rise out of her. Did you see how he was laughing?_

_**Tanaka Taro:**__ Yeah. Something was definitely off. Plus, when he left he said to her "you're the best one yet" or something._

_**Kanra:**__ Really? Wow~_

_**Tsubomi:**__ What a strange guy, huh?_

Setton's reply was blanked out as a private messaging screen popped up. It was from Kanra.

_**Kanra:**__ So you think Izaya Orihara is strange? That's a little rude since you don't even know him~_

I bit my lip in surprise and confusion. Something felt different – like the question was loaded, and not just because Kanra issued a PM for something hardly personal. After a moment's hesitation, I typed my answer.

_**Tsubomi:**__ I suppose, but why else would he laugh after she punched him?_

_**Tsubomi:**__ And why the sudden PM? _

_**Kanra:**__ Touché. And I've missed you these past couple of days, Tsumi-chan~ _

_**Tsubomi:**__ Oh, I see. I've missed speaking with you too, Kanra-san._

_**Kanra:**__ How was the move? Did you meet any cute guys~?_

I felt my brow tick as I typed my reply. _No, but I met a sadomasochistic psychopath who thinks _I'm _cute. Does that count?_

_**Tsubomi:**__ The move was tiring and my sleeping schedule has been a bit messed up since then. And no, not anyone that I'm interested in, but I did make some new friends. _

_**Kanra:**__ Well that's too bad about the jetlag and lack of cute hunks, but I'm glad you moved in okay~_

_**Tsubomi:**__ Thanks. I'm sorry I haven't been able to talk to you until now, but I've just been so busy. _

_**Kanra:**__ Don't sweat it, Tsumi-chan~! _

_**Tsubomi:**__ Haha alright, Kanra-san. I'm afraid I have to cut our conversation short, though. It's getting really late here and I should be going to bed._

_**Kanra:**__ Aww, so soon? _

_**Tsubomi: **__Sadly, yes. But I'll be back here tomorrow – er, well, technically today – night, okay?_

_**Kanra:**__ Sure thing, Tsumi-chan~ Oyasumi nasai! _

_**Tsubomi:**__ Goodnight to you too, Kanra-san. :)_

I sighed, logging off after I bid farewell to Tanaka Taro and Setton as well, completely unaware at the time of a certain information broker spinning wildly to his twisted heart's content in his own desk chair, cackling maniacally all the while not but a city over.

* * *

"_Daddy?" I questioned softly, small, childish voice barely above a meek whisper in the darkness of the room._

_The lump of sheets a few feet in front of me shuffled lazily until said very exhausted and sleep-tousled man wormed his way enough out of his cocoon to peer blearily at me. He blinked foggily for a few moments for finally asking at the same volume, "Mimi? What's wrong?" _

_I sniffled, awkwardly looking down at my feet as they shifted anxiously, embarrassed at my own immaturity. "I…I had a b-bad dream," I finally whispered pitifully, wringing my nightgown in between my small fingers. _

"_Come here, Peanut," he said gently, motioning to the empty space beside him on the bed. _

_With little preamble I scrambled over to his side and flung myself into his arms, burying my head into the warmth of his chest. I inhaled his familiarly pleasant and masculine and _Daddy_ scent, marveling in his affection as he rubbed slow circles on my back and lulled me softly into a blissfully dreamless sleep. _

_When I awoke sometime later, it was to utter cold and silence. After a quick, bleary screen of the room, my father was nowhere to be found. I rushed out of bed as fast as my six-year-old legs would allow me and ran into the hallway, about to scream when the harsh _crack_ of gunfire stopped me dead in my tracks. _

_A boneless sob escaped my bloody lips as I looked to my stomach where a raging pain was beginning to explode. Red. There was so much red, bleeding everywhere – on my hands and in my mouth and in my nose and staining my white nightgown brilliant crimson, on the carpet and the walls— _

_And then there was Daddy, glinting metal in his palms and in his wide, soulless eyes, bright auburn and cold as ice as he pulled the trigger a second time, and blaring painpainpain_**pain**_— _

I woke with a choked gasp, momentarily blinded by the faint light streaming in through the cracks in the blinds as I shuddered, lungs screaming for air that just wouldn't seem to come. I lay tangled in my bed sheets, a cold sweat chilling me to the bone as I struggled for breath.

After I had calmed down enough to blearily crack open my eyes, I chanced a foggy glance at the digital clock on my nightstand. Six thirty-four blinked noiselessly back at me, the red _(like blood_) digits briefly rendering me incapable of any coherent thought. And then I couldn't help the short, pained and choking laughsob that erupted from my throat when I noticed that both of my hands were clutching at my torso as though to make sure there wasn't actually a bloodied hole gaping there.

My entire body was still shaking violently when I slowly sat up, head throbbing terribly. The entire room spun for a moment and I nearly thought I was going to empty the meager contents of my stomach into my own lap, but luckily after a few minutes of slow, deliberate breathing most of my nausea receded. I was still exhausted, but much less hysteric and able to lucidly curse the nightmare that had been plaguing me since my father's death.

Orange sunrise painted my room a light shade of gold as it streamed through the blinds in crisscross patterns, creating strange shapes and purple shadows as it spilled across the floor. I swallowed past the lump in my throat, crawling out of bed and walking over to the window on wobbling legs. Gripping the sill in a white-knuckled grip, I tugged on the string holding the blinds down with a quiet _sshhk_ before opening the latch on the window completely and letting it swing outward.

The sun was barely rising over the industrialized horizon, feathering tangerine into the dark blue-violet of night overhead. I sighed and settled my crossed arms on the wooden frame, closing my eyes and breathing in the chilled morning air as a slight breeze ruffled my hair and cooled my feverish brow. My tank top and boy shorts stuck to me in all the wrong places, but I ignored the small discomfort in favor of relaxing as best I could.

Below me, the city was already awake and rushing around their morning commutes. I nearly groaned aloud at the sight; how could they stand being such workaholics? I decided that it didn't really matter though – it wasn't _me_ after all. I lazily observed them for lack of anything better to do.

One woman, dressed in a dark gray suit, was talking on her cell phone as she walked briskly, suitcase in hand. I couldn't hear the words from my window, but I could tell she was arguing with someone just from the expressions on her face. A businessman clad similarly was jogging in the opposite direction on the other side of the street, hurriedly trying and failing to knot his tie properly with a panicked expression. Obviously, he was late for something. I tried to imagine what it was. A meeting, perhaps? Or maybe it was an interview with—

"Have a bad dream?" a familiar voice asked quietly in my ear.

"Son of a—" I whirled around, only to reel slightly backward when I was met with the quietly amused face of Izaya Orihara, nearly falling out the window. I glared at him as he wrapped his arm around my waist to keep me from doing so, heart hammering against my fingertips as I held them to my chest. "Don't _do_ that!" I hissed quietly.

He chuckled softly, the sounds reverberating all the way down his arm and into me. "It's not my fault you have poor observation skills, Suzu-chan," he taunted with equal volume.

"It's morning!" I snapped in a hushed tone. "I just woke up; you can't blame me for that."

When he merely snaked his other arm around me in response, I scowled. "Why are you here, anyway? And since when?"

"I got bored," was his nonchalant reply. "And I've been here maybe fifteen minutes." He grinned, adding, "You have a very cute expression when having nightmares, by the way."

"It wasn't a _nightmare_," I lied fiercely. He nosed around in my thoughts enough already without invading my REM cycle.

"Oh really?" he murmured rhetorically, pressing his forehead to mine. I met his scarlet gaze unflinchingly. "Why were you muttering 'daddy, daddy' in your sleep, then, hm? Last time I checked, your _daddy_," he mocked silkily, "is _dead._"

I felt a cold weight settle in my stomach as my face went carefully blank. "Go ahead," I spoke hollowly. "Mock me all you want. You probably even looked up how he died. Rub that in my face, too. See if I actually care." I could handle jabs at me, but my father was completely new territory I didn't even want to think about.

His smirk faltered for a second, like he was disappointed by my reaction, before it fell fully from his mouth. He stared at me calculatively, eyes narrowing on-and-off before he finally spoke.

"Actually, no, I didn't." I blinked at him, confused. Why wouldn't he? The corners of his lips twitched upwards at my puzzlement, but I was too tired to stomp in his foot for it. "I want to see what it takes for you to tell me yourself. It'd be no fun otherwise," he explained, hands tightening around my torso.

"You are such a bastard," I said quietly, although there was no real bite to my words. Fatigue was a powerful thing indeed. "No one but me really knows the full extent of what happened that night. Only a privileged few have some scraps of details, and even then reluctantly. My friends don't even know he's dead, so why would you assume I'll be willing to tell _you_, of all people, anything, under any circumstance?"

He grinned wickedly at my response, like he was waiting for me to say just that. "This is a _game,_ Suzu-chan, or have you forgotten? All I need to do is play my cards right and you'll be spilling your deepest, darkest secrets to me in no time." He paused, thinking. "Or maybe a better word would be scream? You definitely look like one."

The suggestive innuendo didn't go unnoticed by me, and I scowled darkly at him, willing the brilliant flush on my cheeks to recede. It was a losing battle, I knew, only made all that more apparent when he chuckled and pressed his lips to my brow, causing my blush to flame even brighter. The room was suddenly very warm despite my lightweight pajamas and Orihara's lack of signature fuzzy jacket, no doubt due to certain _images, _all thanks to the incorrigible flirt standing in front of me.

"I'm not a screamer," I denied petulantly into the hollow of his throat.

"Wanna find out?" he asked suggestively, winking and jerking our pelvises even closer together.

I would have squawked if not for the man sound asleep across the hall. "N-no, you_ pervert_!" I denied fiercely, clutching the collar of his shirt with both hands. "Do you even realize how pedophilic you're being right now?" I hissed sharply.

"Pedophilic, shmedophilic," he dismissed casually. "Back in the early days girls just over half your age were married and screwed all the time. It wasn't against the law then. It still happens in some countries even now. And since when have I ever followed any rules but my own?"

I stared disbelievingly at him, mouth agape. "You have got to be kidding me! The _early days_, as you put them, were an almost completely male-dominated society. Most of those 'screws' were rapes, and still are. One, we're not married, and I don't ever intend to be to _you_. Two, I wouldn't be surprised if you broke every damn rule you were able to break thus far. But you _will not_ break the pedophilia and rape laws with me. Go find some underage whore if you're that desperate. I'm sure you have more than enough money to do so."

"How do you know I haven't already broken either laws?" he asked quietly, lecherously.

I felt a chill run up my spine, all senses of being hypothetical thrown out the window, no pun intended. "You're kidding," I said hoarsely, almost afraid of his answer. I could never tell with him.

He was silent for a few moments, looking for all the world deathly serious. But then he was burying his head in my shoulder, trying to desperately quiet his howls of laughter as he clung to me like his life depended on it. I stared blankly at the wall, dumbfounded, my whole body shaking from the force of his mirth.

"I ca-can't beli-lieve...you actu-ually th-thought I was b-being ser-serious!" he snickered through gasps of air, fingers toying erratically with the hem of my blue tank.

"…If my uncle wasn't just across the hall," I began dangerously in a tight, controlled voice, "right now you would be choking on your own fucking _tongue_."

Unfortunately, my threat seemed to only fuel his laughter. I waited with reluctant patience for his fit to subside as he used me as his personal rail, resisting the extremely tempting urge to elbow him in the gut all the while. When he finally calmed down enough to breathe properly, I shoved him a bit in the shoulder.

"Get off. _Now_."

He 'hmm'-ed in response. "What if I don't want to?"

"Then you will anyway or I'll be forced to knee you in the groin."

"That's mean."

"That's _reality._ Deal with it. Preferably by _getting off of me._"

"Don't you like my company?"

"No. Now _off_."

"What? I always thought my feeling of liking you was _mutual_!"

"Now you're just giving me cheek, you bastard."

"And if I am?"

"We already went over this."

"Really?"

"Really. _Now get off_."

"You're always so _pushy_—"

The rest of his sentence was cut off as I brought my knee up to carry out my threat, only for it to be stopped halfway and a familiar blade pressed to my throat before I could even blink. I leveled his amused smirk with a flat stare when I had actually processed what was happening.

"You didn't really come here because you were bored, did you?" It came out as more of a statement rather than a question, and Orihara's leer only widened.

"Oh, I did," he countered blithely. "This is just a bonus."

"What do you exactly mean by 'thi—?"

My question was answered and simultaneously interrupted as he bent down quickly, using his other hand to lift up the thin fabric of my tank top. Surprised but still coherent, I caught his wrist before it could go _too_ far, but apparently that was enough for whatever sick ploy he wanted to enact.

Before I could truly process what was happening, the bandages around my midsection were literally shredded to pieces and Orihara's forehead was pressed to the hollow between my ribcages – far too close to my breasts for comfort. Again, I would've yelped if not for the man sleeping across the hall. Dammit. As it was, I settled for whacking him over the head as hard as I could.

Completely undeterred, Orihara brought his flickblade up to trace along the scabbed length of the slash he inflicted on me yesterday. The cold, almost feather-light touch sent shivers racing down my spine that weren't wholly unpleasant but still quite unwelcome.

"S-stop," I managed to blurt out, gripping his wrist in mine. "You'll reopen it."

He didn't look up at me; I doubted he even blinked or thought twice before digging the tip of the blade sharply into my partially-healed flesh. I bit back a groan, doubling over from the pain. I could feel warm rivulets of blood beginning to seep down my abdomen. He still hadn't removed his weapon, and, hand released from my now-slack grip, continued to drag along the rest of it.

I was too far gone to stop him or do anything other than hold back sounds of agony as he continued his path of fire. It was only when he removed his blade and began to lap at the blood with his warm tongue as though in apology (I knew better) that I dared to even open my eyes.

I hated to admit it, but his tongue actually felt good on my inflamed wound. Too tired to even have enough energy to care, I let him continue his 'clean up', as it were, without interruption. When he finished, he pressed a smirking kiss just above my navel.

Free from his embrace, I moved as quickly as my Jell-O legs would allow to the right in order to rest against the wall. Much to my chagrin, Orihara stood and followed me, trapping me with an arm on one side of my head, his other hand tilting my chin up to look him in the eye. I glared at him balefully, struggling to catch my breath, clutching at my newly-opened wound. His grinning lips were still smeared with red, and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me and force me to taste myself, but the sudden crowing of my alarm clock prevented me from ever knowing.

With Orihara's grip temporarily loosened from surprise, I ducked under his arm and quickly scrambled over to my nightstand, almost smashing the buzzing device completely in my effort to shut it up. Supporting some of my weight on the small table with one hand, the other grasping at my throbbing navel, I turned and glared at the smirking man casually leaning against my wall.

"Get out. Now," I said quietly.

Orihara raised a brow, signature Cheshire grin splitting across his face. "Oh? So soon?"

"You overstayed your welcome the split nanosecond you stepped foot on the drive," I hissed. The gash was really beginning to smart, and though I had a fairly high pain tolerance, I could feel my temper rising even more quickly than usual when around him.

He chuckled breathlessly, pressing a hand to his heart. "Alright, I concede. I have an appointment with a client in half an hour anyway. But first…" he paused, straightening to his full height and beginning to walk over to me with his familiar swagger.

"What now?" I demanded irritably, inwardly forcing myself to stand my ground as he neared.

He smiled wickedly as he stopped in front of me, hands in his jean pockets. I glared fiercely at him as he bent forward to look me in the eye. "Nothing much," he purred silkily. I could smell my blood on his breath. "Just the fact that my fondness of your flavor grows more and more every time I taste you."

"…Great, you're a cannibal," I humored him flatly. "Now get the hell out."

He looked like he wanted to laugh, but settled for grinning maniacally and showing himself out the door.

* * *

I sighed tiredly as I nursed my warm thermos of coffee. It was free/lunch period, _finally_, and I was sitting on the roof with Kida, Mikado-san, and Anri-san by my side. At first I'd been nervous about coming up here, but my need for privacy (from strangers, at least – stares and questions about yesterday's fight were almost nonstop) overruled any fears I'd had about running into Orihara. I was actually surprised he hadn't called or texted or bugged me at all besides breaking into my room this morning – not that I wanted him to, of course. It was nice to have some peace and quiet for once.

"—and then he was like BAM! And I was like, 'mofo, you get your sorry pedo ass outta here or I'mma call the cops! And he was all like 'ooh I'm so scared!' And then I was all KABOOM! And—"

Well, sort of.

"Okay, we _get it_, Masaomi," Mikado-san said tiredly to my left, cutting off Kida's ten minute-long rant. "This guy picked a fight with you on your way to school this morning and you kicked his butt. _The end_."

Quietly, I snorted disbelievingly into the back of my hand. Anyone with a couple of brain cells to rub together could tell that Kida was lying through his teeth. Anri-san smiled with slight exasperation next to me, and as our eyes met for what seemed like the billionth time I was unbelievably grateful for our IFB.*

"No, not '_the end'_!" Blondie whined petulantly. "I didn't get to the part where I totally—"

I tuned him out after that, leaving Mikado-san to deal with his insane antics since he was much better suited for the job. He'd been doing it since elementary school, after all. I settled for focusing mainly on my meal, about to eat a piece of ama-ebi* when Anri-san quietly interrupted my thoughts.

"Is your cut bothering you?"

I glanced up at her, startled and wondering what she was talking about before I felt the hand on my stomach –_ my_ hand. I hadn't even noticed that I'd been rubbing at it underneath the new bandages, but now that she'd pointed it out it did still ache slightly. Remembering what happened this morning in my bedroom, I scowled darkly before replacing the foul expression with a blander, sheepish one.

"A little bit," I conceded. "I accidentally reopened it in my sleep, so…"

If Anri-san could tell that I was lying she didn't show it. Instead, she smiled and said kindly, "I could give you some salve, if you want."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," I declined respectfully. "But thank you for the offer anyway."

She nodded, about to say something else when a loud 'GACK' demanded our attention. Lo and behold, Kida had jumped Mikado-san for whatever reason (I probably wouldn't know even if I had been paying attention, that guy had mood swings like a fucking pregnant woman) and was currently straddling him face-down with an arm twisted behind his back, demanding that the shorter boy cry 'uncle'.

Before long Mikado-san was spewing the titles of all of his relatives, and I would have felt bad for him if not for the fact that they were guys and it was their business. I simply rolled my eyes and went back to eating lunch – or, at least, _tried_ to, only to be interrupted yet again, this time by my cell.

It seems that I had spoken a little too soon about the peace and quiet bit.

_**Sent by **_**Izaya Orihara **_**at 12:13 pm**_

_Meet me outside Russia Sushi, 11:00pm. Bring jacket._

I blinked after I finished reading the message, confused. I had been expecting some crude pedophilic remark or a stupid puzzle or something, but certainly not _this_. Before any of my curious friends could see just who had sent it, I quickly shut off my phone and pocketed it.

"Who was that?" Mikado-san asked a little breathlessly from his position on the cement, Kida still straddling his back.

"Toshiyuki," I said without thinking. "I – er, my uncle, I mean," I swiftly clarified at their blank stares. "He wanted to know if nikujaga* is okay for dinner."

"Nikujaga? Aww man, so not fair! My ma's making kabocha*!" Kida griped, throwing his hands up in the air.

I couldn't help but smirk. "Well, you could be going without food entirely."

That made him shut up, thankfully. Sadly for Mikado, though, it didn't remove him from his back. As the two friends bickered, I wondered why on Earth Orihara could want me to meet him at Russia Sushi. While it was true we were locked in a battle of wits and wills, no reason came to mind that explained his request.

…Unless he wanted to take me out on a 'date' and try to publicly humiliate me, of course. Which I wouldn't put past him. At all.

I decided not to think about it for the rest of the day, though. I knew my question would be answered soon enough.

* * *

Unfortunately, my prediction was correct.

I had snuck out around eleven just as Orihara had requested – out of my own curiosity, of course, and in the hopes that our meeting would prevent him from breaking into my house for a third time. I had decided to follow his suggestion and wear a jacket over my tank top, but the night air still somehow pierced through its fabric and into my bones. Striding briskly with my head down so that no one could really see my face, I had hurried toward Russia Sushi.

Just as I walked past an alley between two buildings not but a block away from the quirky restaurant, though, a pair of hands grabbed me from the side, one over my mouth to stifle any sound of surprise and the other around my middle to pull me to him. Despite the scratchiness of the rag over my mouth, I instinctively shot out my elbow and rammed whoever the hell was stupid enough to try and nab me in the gut. I knew it wasn't Orihara – they were way too tall and smelt of smoke. Whoever it was let out a choked groan of pain, loosening their hold, and I stumbled away toward the mouth of the alley as quickly as I could.

But my vision was already swimming and my mind already beginning to shut down. My reflexes had degenerated so much so that when the man came to grab me again, I could hardly even shove against his hold as he dragged me off to what looked like the back of a van where two other men were waiting.

_Damn you, Orihara_. Getting kidnapped while going to meet the scarlet-eyed bastard was just too much of a coincidence.

Then the trunk door slammed shut, and everything went black in more ways than one.

* * *

*_Tsubomi _is a Japanese word literally meaning 'flower bud', so I thought it fit. I was originally going to use _Kakan_, meaning 'corolla', but didn't quite like the sound of it…

*_'Banwa_ is a casual Japanese greeting commonly used in chatspeak, as a shortened version of 'konbanwa', or 'good evening'. It sometimes has the rough equivalent of 'how are you?'.

*IFB = Instant Friendship Bond, in case anyone forgot. ;P

*Ama-ebi is just raw pink shrimp~ So good soaked in soy sauce and coated lightly with wasabi *O* …And yes she is drinking coffee with her sushi. It's one of her (read: my) more bizarre quirks...

*Nikujaga is a Japanese dish of meat, potatoes and onion stewed in sweetened soy sauce, sometimes with _ito konnyaku_ (voodoo lily) and vegetables. It's absolutely heavenly when ill.

*Kabocha is a vegetable dish consisting mainly of squash and rice. Lmao poor Kida…xD

**In this fic!verse, Izaya never met Rio or even talked with her, just FYI.** It's why those crazy kidnapping bastards are still around. Yay for creative license! :D

I was really nervous about using them as a plot device, actually, since it's kind of a mirror to Izaya and Rio's meeting. I hate Mary-Sues and I try to avoid them if at all possible, but I don't really see why Izaya _wouldn't_ not-so-fake kidnap her for his own entertainment. Plus, it'll lead to some very interesting plot development later on kufufufufu…

(I feel rather diabolical right now, spewing, as one of my reviewers put it, Izaya/Mukuro-Like Laughter. IMLL ftw muahahaha. xD)

Thanks for reading and please, please, please review? While I love all the support I can get, reviews are what really fuel me to keep writing this story, so, y'know, if you could…? I won't hold this story hostage if you don't, but… *is hopeful*


	7. Hide and Seek

**Title:** Snowblind

**Author:** DeadSummerXx

**Characters/Pairing:** Izaya Orihara & OC

**Type:** Continuous (Incomplete)

**Genre:** Romance/General/Humor

**Word Count:** 5,130

**Rating:** M (Contains content suitable for mature teens and older)

**Disclaimer:** Durarara! belongs to its respective owners.

**Summary:** In a trial of insanity and hope, the fine line between truth and lies is nonexistent, and even the smallest of errors can blind you into believing the unbelievable. But then again, of what worth is a game when one does not have a worthy opponent?

**Created on:** 8/23/10

**Completed on:** 8/30/10

**Chapter Last Revised on:** 8/30/10

**A/N: **Agh, sorry I'm so late! My school finally sent out schedules _**one week before school starts, those bastards, **_and I spent all weekend shopping for my school shit. Dx

And I've finally made up my mind on the chapter titles, and as you can see, I have decided to give them proper names. All of them are and will be names of children's games that somehow tie in to what happens in that particular chapter. For example, this chapter is _**Hide and Seek**_ because Suzumi is 'hidden' when kidnapped and must seek out answers~

The previous chapters (because I'm too lazy to go and re-edit them that much) are titled for the following reasons:

1._** Whisper Down the Lane**_; also known as Telephone and Grapevine. I chose this title for chapter one because a) it sounds cool, b) it's the introduction – you know how in Telephone it's basically like telling a story. Lame explanation, but like I said, the main reason is because it sounds cool. xD

2._** I Spy**_; Kida and Mikado 'spy' Suzumi and thus their friendship begins. Also, the trio 'spies' Celty.

3. _**Apple Core**_; it's an old game that I had to look up. It's more of a prank than anything else, where two kids (one holding an apple core) dialogue in a certain manner back and forth, until the child not holding the fruit answers a question in a certain way that makes the other kid throw the core at them. It struck me as really funny and fitting, so I put it here.

4._** Red Hands**_; Red Hands is basically a slapping/hitting game, so it rather suited this chapter, what with Suzumi decking our dear Orio lmao.

5._** House**_; Everyone's played house when they were little, so I doubt it needs an explanation. I chose this game for chapter five because it's the first time Izaya actually ambushes Suzumi inside her house~

6._** Lonely Ghost**_; also known as Wink Murder, Wink Wink Muder, Killer, Murder Wink, or simply Killer, is a game where someone (the murderer) winks at the other players to 'kill' them, or rather knock them out of the game. The object of the game is to 'kill' as many people as possible. I chose this for chap six because Suzumi is kidnapped. :D

And yep that's about it. **If you have any game suggestions, do tell.** Like always, thanks for all of your guys' support. It really means a lot. Anyway, enough with my nonsensical gibberish. On with the show!

* * *

_Chapter Seven_

_**Hide and Seek**_

* * *

When I awoke, it was to absolute darkness.

The first thing I noticed was that I was gagged and bound. Next was that my nose _really _itched, and I was about to scratch it against the rough carpet (_of a van_, I remembered foggily) underneath my aching sides—until, of course, the agonized pounding in my head completely blanked out all other sensations.

I bit back a groan, never mind the cloth in my mouth would have muffled it anyway, and clamped my eyes shut tight as though it would somehow alleviate the throbbing pressure beating against my temples. Unfortunately it didn't work, not that I thought it would, and I was reduced to nothing but a tense, trembling mass of pained flesh and bone for what seemed like several hours before I was able to think at least slightly clearly again. In reality it was probably only a few minutes, but under the circumstances I think I was allowed a little bit of leeway for some exaggeration.

As I lay there trying to collect my thoughts, hazy memories of what happened began to piece themselves back together. Orihara texting me, something about Kida and kabocha, Russia Sushi, getting jumped in the alley, a van, darkness…

_I was kidnapped,_ I realized numbly.

_Son of a bitch._ Izaya Orihara was a dead man walking when I got my hands on him.

But that could wait until later. My main priority at that moment was to somehow find a way to escape without getting killed. I shifted uncomfortably on my sore side, arm pinned painfully beneath me, to peer blearily around. No one was in the vehicle with me, which was both a blessing and a curse. If they weren't here, then just where were they?

A look up at the windows answered my question. Three silhouettes were leaning against it, one smoking – most likely the one who had grabbed me and knocked me unconscious, that asshole – and talking. I couldn't make out any of the words they were saying through the glass, but it was evident that they were getting pissed and impatient. Maybe waiting for something or someone? I compared the location of the moon* in the sky with the familiar directions that the fronts of the buildings in the distance were facing and determined that it was somewhere around one in the morning. Damn. Usually I would have just used my internal clock, but it was rather discombobulated at the moment due to whatever drug they put me to sleep with.

Honestly, I couldn't blame them for getting irritated though. If I'd been waiting for three plus hours I'd be pretty fucking miffed too. But in this case I was grateful that whoever they were waiting for hadn't shown up yet if it meant I was okay for the time being. Briefly, I wondered if it was Orihara, but I honestly had no idea. It was possible, but I didn't see him as the type of person to willingly insert himself like that. He was a more plot-and-watch-while-cackling-maniacally kind of guy. Most definitely.

Right now that didn't matter though. I needed to find something with which to cut the ropes binding my hands and feet. Damn it all. I really needed to start carrying a razorblade in my flats. A quick scan of the surrounding floor only turned up with various stains, lint, and cigarette butts, which weren't helpful at all. A length of cord was lying off in the corner, but that was about as useful as toilet paper in this situation. I tried grabbing at the tether tying my hands together, but from touch alone I could tell they'd knotted it at least three times. Put out, I attempted rolling awkwardly onto my stomach and ripping them apart with brute force alone, but all that did was chafe bitingly against the sensitive skin of my wrists and ankles.

Fucking hell, I was screwed.

Growling quietly against the stale cloth over my mouth, I flipped back into my original sideways position, tired, angry, and frustrated. I wanted to desperately bang my head against the awful-smelling floor, but that wouldn't get me anywhere. I needed a plan, and I needed one fast. I'd been in situations like this before (sans the sadomasochistic psychopath pulling the strings behind the curtains) and knew very well what could happen if I didn't get the hell out fast enough. All of my previous encounters, while few, thankfully ended up with me kicking ass. I wasn't so sure about this time, as none of them before this had been smart enough to drug me or tie me up properly. I'd seen other people be nabbed, too. Rapes, murders, trafficking, torture, experiments. Anything and everything. I couldn't—_wouldn't_—let that happen to me, not while I was alive and breathing and able to do something about it.

Mind made up, I shifted awkwardly to a kneeling position, being careful to keep my head ducked under the rim of the window so none of my captors could see me. What I was about to would hurt like hell, I knew, but a little pain would be nothing compared to losing my life or my virginity unwillingly. I'd done it a few times before anyway. I just hoped I was still flexible enough to pull it off; lest I break my arms.

Steeling myself, I took a shuddering breath, and, as fast as I could, raised my arms rearward and twisted them over my head and down in front of me, shoulder blades popping in agony.

**Ohfuckfuckfuck**_**fuck**_, I screamed inwardly, resisting the urge to yell loudly into the gag. I had forgotten how much that goddamn _hurt_. I knew that usually for people who were double jointed like that didn't feel pain at all, but it had been years since I'd done it, and my unprepared and tight muscles weren't helping at all. I could feel tears prickling in the corners of my eyes, but swallowed them down. I had more important things to focus on.

I exhaled shakily into the rag tied around my mouth, keeping an eye on my oblivious captors in my peripheral vision, and brought my hands up to rip off the smelly cloth. I took in grateful, _clean_ mouthfuls of air, happy to be rid of the stench of alcohol. Next came my feet, which I stumbled on a little because of all the goddamn _knots_, but soon enough they were off and I was free to flex my cramping calves. Bringing my tied hands up to my mouth, I chewed and tugged randomly at the bonds until they were loose enough that I could maneuver my wrists sufficiently to pull at the remaining knots with my fingers.

As the coil of beaten rope pooled at my knees, I rubbed victoriously at my sore wrists. Izaya Orihara was going to learn to never, _ever_ underestimate Suzumi Yanase.

A quick check to the front of the van told me that the morons had left the keys in the ignition. It would be the smart thing to just hop in the seat and drive off (I _was_ sixteen), but that would leave the asses that kidnapped me to go after someone else. I could run them over, but I wasn't terribly keen on bloodying up the grills and alerting my presence to the police. Plus I wanted to personally give them a piece of my mind and make them think twice before pulling a stunt like this again, and for ever messing with me _period_.

I smirked. Old-fashioned ass-kicking it was then.

* * *

I had assumed it would be a routine job. Pick up the package, bring it to its new owner, receive payment. Or, in this case, scare the kidnappers out of what little wits they had and hurt them for stealing an actual person, _then _bring the person to whoever wanted them – in other words, to Orihara – and receive payment. The usual.

What didn't expect was for the "package" to be up and moving about, throwing punches left and right.

Unconsciously, I slowed Shooter to a halt in the shadows of a pillar and watched. One of the captors was out cold on the cement, face bloodied. The other two were doing their best to contain the girl, but it was clear she was winning by speed if nothing else alone. Small and light on her feet, her build made it easy for her to duck and maneuver herself into their blind spots and attack them. She had some skill and force, too, and I wondered where she could have possibly learned to fight like that. I had seen better fighters, but once you watch Shizuo Heiwajima and Izaya Orihara in action you can never really compare again.

The two surrounded her on either side now, and one was able to grab hold of her shoulders as she went to punch the one in front of her. Quickly, before he could gag her and knock her unconscious, she whirled and elbowed him in the face before kicking backward and shoving her foot into his groin. He dropped like a ton of bricks, moaning and cursing but otherwise out of commission. She turned to finish off the remaining offender, but for all of her speed she was too late.

I, however, had seen the knife coming and stopped it just before it pierced her jugular.

Both captor and not-so-captive-anymore froze at the sight of my shadow gripping the gleaming blade, before the girl, seeing her chance despite its strangeness, punched the unmoving man in the face and knocked him out cold. As I retracted my shadow, she stomped over to the other man and brought her foot down harshly on the pressure point at the base of his neck, rendering him also unconscious.

After a few moments of light panting and shoulder- and wrist-rubbing, she stood fully erect again and looked around warily, before calling out a quiet, almost tentative, "…Hello?"

Her back was to me as I pulled out of the shadows, but her ears were sharp enough to hear the soft neighing purrs that Shooter emitted. The girl stiffened before whirling around, surprise clear in her strange teal eyes. Recognition flashed briefly across her face, and if I myself had one I'd have done the same. Up close, she seemed oddly familiar. Where had I seen her before?

"…The Black Rider," she finally murmured in awe, almost to herself.

I slowly inched closer to her so as not to frighten her away, typing on my PDA at the same time before showing it to her.

_Are you all right?_

She blinked after reading the message, openly surprised. "…I'm…I'm fine, thanks," she stuttered out. "Sore, but…fine."

_I'm glad._

"Why?" she asked.

_I came here tonight to scare them away and make sure you were safe. It looks like you did that just fine on your own, though._

"How did you know?" Her brow knotted in confusion, before realization lit up in her face. "Did Orihara tell you?"

_How do you know Izaya-san?_ I typed quickly, nearly whacking her in the nose as I shoved the device close to her.

"How do _you_ know Orihara?" she said incredulously.

_He's my client. I'm an underground porter. How do you know him? _I asked again. All of the girls thus far had never even heard of him.

"A porter?" she echoed, looking like she wanted to ask just what it was Izaya-san asked me to deliver, but decided against it. Smart move. "He's…" she trailed off, looking for the right word. I knew the feeling. "He's the psycho who practically stalks me," she finally ground out.

I stiffened in surprise. Stalking? I knew Izaya-san had some disturbing habits, but never once had I seen him stalk anyone, let alone an underage girl. Then it hit me.

She was the teen on the news that had decked him the other day.

_I know you!_ I typed frantically, telling her just where I remembered her from.

"…You saw that, huh?" she cringed slightly, looking away in frustration.

_Yes_, I replied. _What he did was out of line. I'm on your side._

"Um…thanks…?"

_Celty Sturluson_.

"Suzumi Yanase," she returned politely. "Your name…it's not Japanese. It's Irish or something, right?"

_Yes, it is. Ireland is my home country._

She smiled slightly then. "Strange, huh? That we both come from different countries than Japan, I mean."

_Where were you born?_ I asked, curious now.

"The States," she replied quietly. "I just arrived here Friday afternoon."

_Well, I would say welcome to Japan, but right now probably isn't the best of times_.

She snorted, mumbling an irritated, "No kidding."

Silence reigned for a few moments then, before Suzumi-san sighed and cracked her shoulders again. "Um…thanks for saving me, Celty-san. I really appreciate it."

_It was my pleasure,_ I replied honestly.

She nodded gratefully, looking like she wanted to ask more about my shadow and my legend, but kept her mouth shut and settled for rubbing awkwardly at the back of her neck. "…I have to get home now though, and plot just how I'm going to kill Orihara after school tomorrow, so…goodnight, Celty-san." She turned toward the lot exit.

If I was able to laugh I would have, but I settled for shaking my shoulders and typing, _No, not yet, Suzumi-san._

"What do you mean?" she asked curiously.

_I have to bring you to someone first_.

"…It's Orihara, isn't it?" Suzumi-san asked flatly, an irritated tick to her brow.

I nodded.

She sighed, grumbling under her breath. "I swear, if that bastard keeps taking away my sleeping hours I will fucking _castrate _him."

I shook my head, inwardly rolling with mirth. I could see why Orihara had such a fix on her now. She was different from the rest, most definitely. _Hop on_, I typed.

She stiffened. "You mean…on the bike?"

_Where else?_

Suzumi-san quirked a brow, looking uncertain. "No offense, Celty-san," she began warily, "but I hardly know you, and I've had my fair share of excitement for the night."

_Just trust me_, I typed, holding out a second shadow helmet. I didn't know any other way to persuade her.

She still looked unsure, but hesitantly took the helmet from my gloved fingers and slipped it on over her head before climbing on Shooter behind me.

_Hold on_, I messaged over my shoulder. Soon after, her arms tightened around my middle, and we were galloping off into nighttime Ikebukuro.

* * *

It was my first time being on any kind of motorcycle, but I was glad it was with Celty-san.

She truly was an excellent driver, making me feel safe in her care yet excited to be on the streets. Her strangeness only added to the mystique and thrill of being with her. I didn't talk during the duration of our ride, my thoughts preoccupied with a bizarre calmness despite the fact I would soon be facing one of the people I hated most. I relished in it, the cool wind whipping against my face perched on Celty-san's shoulder and the hair that escaped from my helmet. Shooter, as she called her bike, roared quietly beneath us, and for once I could truly appreciate the beauty of all of the lights and tall buildings around me.

Soon enough we entered a warehouse district and stopped in front of an all-too-familiar abandoned Love Hotel. It had only been a few days since I'd last been there, but it seemed like a lifetime ago. Celty slowly drew Shooter to a halt in front of the unchained doors, settling her feet on the ground once it finally stopped. Reluctantly, I unwound my arms from her midsection and unclasped the helmet, hopping off before handing it to her.

"Thank you, Celty-san," I said honestly, smoothing out my helmet hair and giving her a genuine smile.

_Anytime, Suzumi-san_, she replied on her PDA. I wanted to ask why she needed it, but held my tongue as I did with so many of her mysteries and settled for waving goodbye as she took off into the night.

I sighed once I was left alone on the street, shoving my hands in my pockets as I slipped through the crack in the building's doors. A dusty and rundown lounge greeted me, but I ignored the sights in favor of heading toward the stairwell. I didn't trust the rusty old elevator near the back of the room. Once I reached the top fourth floor, I took the Employees Only exit and walked slowly up the stairs to the roof. Now that Celty-san was gone, it almost felt like I was walking to my doom.

Orihara was waiting for me on the landing, grinning in his signature cat-that-caught-the-canary way. I ignored him and swept past his shoulder to the safety railing on the edge of the roof, not missing his amused and slightly confused expression out of my peripheral vision. I settled my elbows on the rail backward, turning my head out toward the city.

"That wasn't quite the reaction I'd expected," Orihara said blandly, sauntering over to me with his familiar swagger. His smirk was still present, but I could tell he was put out and confused by my ignoring him.

"In time," I replied blithely, not bothering to even look at him as he stopped in front of me, palms resting on the cool metal at my back on either side of my hips.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he purred smoothly into my ear. I finally met his dangerously amused crimson gaze, teal eyes half-mast.

"It means," I echoed, "that, right now, I'm too tired to give a damn."

"Oh, really? Then what about later?" he egged me on not-so-subtly, eyes glinting with a mischievous excitement I could easily recognize.

I narrowed my eyes at his challenge. Usually I would have snapped violently at him, with either my fists or with words, but tonight felt…different. Maybe it was because of Celty-san, or the fact that I had taken out a lot of my frustration on my ex-captors, but whatever it was it made me want to try something new.

"You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?" I countered effortlessly, smirking back up at him, relishing inwardly at the surprise flickering in his irises as I grabbed a hold of his forearms. It wasn't my usual white-knuckled bruising grip, either; just touching, gauging his reaction at being the one whose personal space bubble was invaded, not the other way around.

Unfortunately it seemed as though Orihara's personal space bubble was very, very small, for before I knew it he had moved his hands from the rail and reacquainted them with the swell of my hips. It was an intimate position, I knew, one made for lovers and the like, but I squashed down my repulsion and held my subtly challenging expression through sheer force of will.

"Maybe," he replied darkly, thumbs beginning to trace aching circles on my pressure points. Damn. Not this again. "What'll it take for you to show me now?"

"Not on your life," I returned easily, desperately trying to keep my voice steady as he angled his digits into the hollow of my hipbones. I could feel my face heating, warmth spreading across my cheekbones and over the bridge of my nose due to his ministrations. Shit. Why did he, of all people, have to be the one to find such an easily-targeted erogenous zone?

He hummed, bringing our foreheads together for what seemed like the millionth time since I met him, grinning wickedly. "What about on yours?"

I opened my mouth to reply, only for my sentence to be cut off as his hands slid down to where they were most unwelcome. I pinkened considerably, momentarily speechless and lips agape, before I reacted on instinct without thinking properly and brought my hand up to cuff him in the nose. He anticipated my reaction though, that asshole, and caught my wrist in a tight grip, his other hand quickly doing the same to my left one. I stuck my foot out to trip him, but he tugged me down with him as he fell. I landed on his warm chest with a quiet _'oof'_, slightly disoriented. Taking advantage of my incapacitation, Orihara quickly rolled us over so that he was straddling my waist, arms pinned on either side of my head with his hands.

I glared up at him, slightly out of breath from having the wind knocked out of me and feeling highly violated. That was the second goddamn time he had groped my ass.

"You're an asshole," I spat breathlessly.

He merely smiled in response, thumbs tracing over my wrist bone as he shifted on top of me to lean down so that our faces were barely an inch a part. I considered head butting him, but he'd probably see it coming from a mile away and angle his head for a kiss instead. Which wasn't welcome. At all. It was bad enough that he had been the first person to ever touch me _that way_, even if it was just to make me flustered. Stealing my first kiss (shut up) was most likely next on his list, and I would rather die than give him the satisfaction of doing so.

"You're so cute and entertaining," he practically cooed with excitement, grinning like a little kid with a hundred bucks in a candy shop.

"And you're so bastardly and psychopathic," I nearly snarled. I was tired and sore, damn it, and my nerves were quickly fraying and my patience wearing thin. It would only be a matter of time before we ended up in another brawl if he kept this up.

"Aww," he pouted. "That's mean."

I raised an incredulous brow at him. "And kidnapping me to see my reaction _isn't_?"

"I never said it wasn't." He grinned.

I snorted, rolling my eyes. He was just so damn incorrigible. "Let me go."

"Hmm…" He pretended to think about it for a moment, before saying happily, "Nope. I don't think I will."

I sighed, knowing that I'd have to give something in return for my release. Really, he was such a kid sometimes. "What do you want?"

"You," he answered, not missing a beat.

I froze before saying slowly, "…And what's that supposed to mean?" My body? My affections? (_HA)_ My company?

He smiled impiously, eyes glinting blood red. "Anything I can get." He said it like he could have all of me. Bastard.

"Right now you can get a knee to the groin," I snapped back, shifting my throbbing wrists against his hold.

He laughed openly, burying his head in my shoulder as he rode waves of mirth. I could feel the vibrations in his chest as it lay against mine, the feeling strange but not entirely unpleasant. Once again, I couldn't help but breathe in his pleasantly masculine scent of coffee, tea, and _him_. My cheeks were blushing furiously at the closeness of our bodies, particularly our lower halves, as each jerk of his chest sent his pelvis rolling into mine. This man was going to be the death of me, I swear.

After he had calmed down some, he leaned upward enough to lean his forehead against mine once more, rubbing my wrists almost tenderly as he grinned against the side of my face. "Oh, Suzu-chan," he breathed contentedly. "What on Earth am I going to do with you?"

"Preferably let me go," I replied dryly.

He snickered against my ear in response before nipping it lightly. I went rigid in his hold, not expecting the move. I scowled darkly at his amused smirk, jerking my head to the left when he tried to do it again.

"Don't," I commanded harshly.

"I don't think you're in much of a place to be giving orders, Suzu-chan," he purred silkily, Cheshire grin splitting across his face as he detached one of his hands from my wrists and ran his fingers along the side of my neck, causing shivers to slither up my spine.

"And what the hell is that supposed to me—"

I didn't get to finish my sentence, for the next thing I knew was utter darkness.

* * *

The second time I woke up, I was blinded by the harsh light streaming through the blinds.

Groaning loudly at the feeling of my corneas being burnt, I halfheartedly shielded them by throwing a hand over my face and burrowing into the warmth around me. Damn sunlight…

Wait, _sunlight?_

I bolted upright, and disregarding my throbbing eyes, whipped my head around to peer at my unfamiliar surroundings, clutching at my throbbing neck. I was lying on a black leather couch, a thin blanket resting at my hips. My sweatshirt hung limply from the armrest, and I self-consciously rubbed at my bare shoulders. A desk with a large computer and several stacks of paper was off to my right, the large window responsible for my current ocular dilemma behind it. I blinked in confusion. An office? What the hell?

And then I saw the coffee table.

A _shogi_* board was set up on it, only various pieces from other games were placed strategically on its squares. Immediately, everything added up. The office, the game, my last memory being with Orihara…

He kidnapped me _again._

I resisted the urge to scream in frustration. It was worse now because it was daylight, and a quick glance at my cell told me that it was past noon. Fucking hell, I was screwed. Toshiyuki was probably panicking and calling the police and the whole nine yards. Not to mention all of the texts on my phone. Fifty-four, to be exact. Two from Mikado-san, one from Anri-san, fifty-one from Kida. All of them I could probably guess were asking where the hell I was and what happened to me.

_Dammit. _I was going to fucking slaughter Orihara if it was the last thing I did.

"I see you're finally awake, Suzu-chan."

Speak of the devil.

* * *

I chuckled breathlessly to myself as I stepped out of the shower and dried off. My thoughts, of course, were centered on the sleeping teen laying on the couch in my main office. I could barely contain my excitement at the mere thought of here reaction to having been brought here. I couldn't tell exactly what it would be, of course – she was so _frustratingly, deliciously _unpredictable that it was almost impossible to tell precisely what she would do next.

I would know soon, though. I could feel it, and that knowledge only hurried my effort to dress myself. I was in the middle of zipping the fly on my pants when I heard a loud groan from the direction of my office. Instantly, I perked up and rushed out to meet her with my towel in hand, shirt be damned. It would be funny to see her face at my half-nakedness, anyway.

I settled for leaning against the doorframe to my office as I scrutinized her panicking and looking around, checking her phone, etc. I nearly laughed out loud when her face turned a violent, furious shade of purple when she saw the time, but held in my mirth in favor of observing her a little longer. It was only when she looked like she was going to start yelling at nothing in particular that I decided to make my presence known.

"I see you're finally awake, Suzu-chan," I said blithely, pasting on my signature smirk.

Her reaction was instantaneous. She whipped around on the couch so fast she nearly tumbled over the back of it, pinning me with a ferocious glare, mouth open to most likely insult me. The words seemed to die in her throat, however, once she caught sight of just what I was wearing – or, rather, _wasn't_. I felt a surge of masculine pride at her shocked, bug-eyed look as she ogled my bare torso and arms, and I just couldn't help myself.

"See something you like?" I teased, purposely flexing my crossed biceps.

That seemed to snap her out of her daze, and she reeled back slightly with a deep flush and a mortified glare, mouth set into a firm, chiseled line. I could see her jaw twitch even from here as she ground her teeth, and she looked like she wanted to spit a million and one obscenities at me, but settled for clenching the leather of the couch in her firm (I knew from experience) grip and sneering, "Yeah, that bruise on your jaw is the most beautiful shade of purple I've ever seen."

The corner of my lip twitched at the jab. Her punch actually really hurt, but there's no way I'd admit that aloud. "Thanks," I replied graciously instead, relishing in her responding scowl. "It's one of my most prized assets. Makes me look rather rugged, don't you think?"

She snorted loudly, mouth drooping downward. "No," she disagreed frankly. "It makes you look like the idiot who can't keep his mouth shut that you actually are."

I grinned. She always had the best retorts. "That hurts, Suzu-chan," I faux-pouted.

"You deserve all of the pain you can get," she snarked viciously.

"And why's that?" I questioned blithely, knowing that her answer would be extremely amusing.

"This is the second fucking time you've kidnapped me, you bastard!" she practically seethed, soft leather squeaking shrilly in her clenched hands. Inwardly, I hoped she wouldn't rip it. That was my favorite couch.

"And?" I asked carelessly in response, well aware that it would just infuriate her even further.

"'_And'?"_ she spluttered indignantly. "What the hell do you mean, _'and'?"_

"What's your point?" I substituted, cackling wildly on the inside. Suzu-chan was just so much _fun_.

She gaped at me openly like a fish out of water then, jaw moving up and down in utter frustration, like she had a million words to say but knew they would just go straight over my head. They would, but still. After a few moments of this, she closed her mouth and eyes simultaneously and went perfectly still, before disappearing from my sight as she flopped down loudly back onto the couch and groaned into the pillow. I could hear several loud thumps, presumably from her punching the living daylights out of the armrest in my place.

I grinned victoriously in amusement, inwardly laughing at her expense as I uncrossed my arms and walked over to the coffee pot to grab my usual afternoon fix. If her reaction to something so simple was so extreme, then I couldn't wait to see what she would do once she found out what I had planned for the day.

* * *

*Remember, she's an astrology geek. :O

*Shogi is a kind of Japanese board game. Look it up if you don't know what it is. C:

Haha I'm sorry if Izaya and Suzumi's interaction isn't as funny as usual. I was watching Spirited Away, The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, and 5cm Per Second and listening to SafetySuit while writing this~

**All current gaping plot holes (Toshiyuki, school, etc.) will be cleared up next chapter. **Just FYI. C:

Thanks for reading, and please review! :D


	8. Guess Who

**Title:** Snowblind

**Author:** DeadSummerXx

**Characters/Pairing:** Izaya Orihara & OC

**Type:** Continuous (Incomplete)

**Genre:** Romance/General/Humor

**Word Count:** 6,818

**Rating:** M (Contains content suitable for mature teens and older)

**Disclaimer:** Durarara! belongs to its respective owners.

**Summary:** In a trial of insanity and hope, the fine line between truth and lies is nonexistent, and even the smallest of errors can blind you into believing the unbelievable. But then again, of what worth is a game when one does not have a worthy opponent?

**Created on:** 8/31/10

**Completed on:** 9/5/10

**Chapter Last Revised on:** 9/5/10

**A/N:** Last chapter before I head off to school. I can hardly believe eight weeks have already passed. D'8

**JUST FYI, UPDATES MAY BE A LITTLE MORE SPORADIC AND SLIGHTLY TARDY DUE TO SCHOOLWORK AND/OR TESTING. IF I DEEM A TEMPORARY HIATUS NECESSARY BECAUSE OF THIS (AND MY TRIP TO ARIZONA IN DECEMBER ON CHRISTMAS BREAK) THEN I WILL POST AN INDIVIDUAL CHAPTER A/N EXPLAINING WHY AND WHEN I WILL BE BACK. ALL INDIVIDUAL CHAPTER A/NS WILL BE DELETED ONCE I AM OFF HIATUS SINCE I HATE IT WHEN THOSE RANDOMLY POP IN THE MIDDLE OF A STORY I'M READING, SO I SUSPECT THAT AT LEAST SOME OF YOU FEEL THE SAME.**

So just be aware, mmkay?

Anyway, I titled this chapter _**Guess Who**__, _which is a game where a person is selected to be the 'who' anonymously by a parental/advisory figure and the rest of the participants turn their backs and/or close their eyes to the 'who'. The 'who' then disguises their voice and says something. The first person to correctly _guess who_ the 'who' is chooses the next 'who' anonymously, and so to find out just why I titled it that~ If you haven't figured it out by then, **read the explanation that's in my bottom A/N**. I would post it here but I don't want to ruin it. xD

* * *

_Chapter Eight_

_**Guess Who

* * *

**_

"So let me get this straight," I began flatly. I was seated on the couch I had previously abused, having recovered from my mini-episode. Orihara was draped casually across from me on the opposite couch, sipping at his third coffee in the past fifteen minutes after having finally gotten a shirt. I couldn't quite decide if that was a good or bad thing. "You knocked me out last night and carried me home, and this morning you called the school on my uncle's behalf to tell them that I was sick with a temperature, and while I was sleeping earlier you snuck into my house and left my uncle a note saying that I had gone to school early and would be staying after an hour and a half late as part of some stupid club that I forgot to tell him about, leaving me with the rest of the day off to spend with _you_."

"Yep, pretty much," he dismissed casually, like it wasn't a big deal at all.

But it was. It was a _huge fucking deal, _actually.

"You are absolutely _unbelievable_," I snapped at him furiously. "I can't believe you would go this far just to…_to_ _just spend more time irritating the hell out of me_!" At his raised brow, I took it back. "Fine," I snarled, "I _can_ believe it, but that doesn't make it any more acceptable."

"Whoever said it was acceptable?" he countered indifferently, taking a swig from his coffee. Unsweetened, if the scent I was rapidly becoming familiar with was of any indication.

I shook my head and sighed angrily. There was no way to argue with this man – _demon – _and win. "Fine, whatever," I relented. "But I'm not going anywhere with you. I'm going home to nurse the huge-ass bruise on the back of my neck," I glared at him pointedly, "and bandage the rope burns on my wrists and ankles, thank you very _much_."

"You're welcome," he replied cheerily, seemingly oblivious to my discomfort. I knew better. "I only have one question, though: Just how will you be doing that?"

"What do you mean?" I asked irritably. Honestly, this bastard and his vagueness, I swear…

"Do you even know where we are?" he questioned, an amused glint to his eyes like he already knew the answer. He probably did.

I scowled in response. "Please tell me we're still in Ikebukuro."

"If I did I'd be lying, and lying is _wrong_," he jeered merrily, gesturing to me with his plain black coffee cup.

I resisted the urge to break down into another fit of couch-bashing. This was definitely not the time. "You've got to be kidding me," I said, despair vomiting all over my words. And yes, you read that right, because I felt like I was going to be sick if I had to spend another five minutes with this scarlet-eyed sadomasochistic son of a bitch. Maybe it was just my killer headache, but it was probably both, and more so the former. I hoped I would throw up over his weird shogi/chess/go/checkers game board if I did. Or on Orihara himself, but I wasn't much of a projectile vomit-type. A girl can dream, though.

"Since when have I ever kidded?" Orihara faux-pouted in response to my rhetorical question, like the very notion of me calling him a twofaced liar like he actually was hurt him in the deepest of manners.

Pfft. That'd be _the_ fucking day.

"Then where the hell are we?" I demanded impatiently, nerves desperately fraying. I stunk of sweat, blood, smoke, and alcohol; my head, wrists, back, sides, shoulder blades, and ankles were killing me; and all I wanted to do was go home and take a nice, lengthy bath and bandage my wounds before taking a several hour-long nap _**without Orihara even so much as texting me or even thinking about me.**_ Notice the bold and italics, because I'm sure said bastard wouldn't.

"Shinjuku," he replied nonchalantly as he downed the rest of his coffee in one go. No wonder he was so fucking happy all the time.

"_Shinjuku?"_ I echoed incredulously, voice raising an octave in disbelief.

"Mm-hm," he cheered merrily, literally skipping over to the coffee pot on the other side of the room to get his fourth refill since I woke up. Goodness knows how many he had _before _that.

I really did groan aloud that time, not even bothering to run over to him and kick him in the balls for laughing in response. There was no way in hell I'd be able to find my way home from _Shinjuku_, of all places. Which meant that I was stuck with Orihara. For the rest. Of. The. _**Day.**_

Or until he decided to let me go. There was always the taxi option, but all I had on me was lint and some gum wrappers. Damn.

"You have no idea how much I want to stab you with your own flick blade right now," I grumbled desolately into my palms.

"Only if I can return the favor, Suzu-chan," he returned joyously, coffee in hand. I had a feeling shit like this was going to start happening on a regular basis from now on, and nearly passed out at the disturbing thought.

Damn my life. Damn my worth complex. Damn my incorrigible need to prove myself and not back down from even the most ridiculous and stupid of challenges. Damn Orihara and his kidnap-happy tendencies.

Just _damn it.

* * *

_

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"_Yes."_

"_**No**__."_

"Please?"

"_Fucking __**hell**__ no._"

"But Suzu-chan!" I whined petulantly. "You would look so adorable in it!"

"Dammit, Orihara! I am _not_ wearing a fucking _bow_ in my hair!" she refused adamantly, arms crossed over her bosom, glowering at me with the fire of a thousand suns like she wanted me to spontaneously combust. She probably did.

"For me?" I tried, pasting on my award-winning puppy dog-eyed look.

"Why the hell would I do anything for _you_?" she sneered condescendingly. "That face makes you look constipated, by the way."

Unwittingly, I scowled. That pout worked on even _my sisters_ at the worst of times, despite the fact that they were ferocious little demon children. One of the downsides of Suzumi's tough personality, unfortunately.

"I saved your life, remember?" I grinned to cover up my irritation.

"You were the one that put my life at risk in the first place," she pointed out, glowering darkly.

"But you also have no idea how to get home and I'm the only one that knows you aren't actually sick, and if you don't obey me I could easily throw you out on the streets," I countered, sprits lifting at her expense.

Her nose and eyelid twitched simultaneously in annoyance, knowing that I was right. After a few minutes of agonized jaw clenching and vicious glaring and loud teeth grinding, she eventually swallowed her pride and avoided my gaze by dropping it to the floor, uncrossing one of her arms and holding out her palm expectantly, grumbling our a terse, "_Fine._"

I nearly laughed aloud in excitement and joy, dropping the blue ribbon in her hand without a second thought. Immediately, she whipped her clenched fist away from mine and turned around, spine rigid. There was an angry sway to her hips I couldn't help but ogle as she walked briskly toward the bathroom to perform her morning ritual of cleaning up or whatever the hell females took so long in the bathroom for, grumbling foully.

The results were well worth the squabble and the wait, though. When she came back to the main office a few minutes later, I nearly fell out of my desk chair at her ineffable cuteness. Suzu-chan, while pretty on her own, was the pure image of _moe _with the blue bow partially holding aside her bangs and matching her eyes. Even her plain clothing, sour expression, and 'even-so-much-as-think-about-how-fucking-ridiculous-this-bow-looks-and-I'll-strangle-you-with-it' look didn't deter from her absolute adorableness. If anything, it only added to her appeal.

And it was a major personal triumph, but still.

Unable to contain myself, I leapt out of my chair and wrapped my arms around her, bringing her side flush against my chest. She immediately blushed and started to flail around in my hold, attempting (and failing) to shove me off of her, spouting obscenities left and right.

"_So __**cute**_," I cooed, rubbing my hands along her bare arm.

"I hate you," she seethed, elbowing me roughly in the gut.

I disguised my grunt/cough (grough?) of pain as a short, breathless laugh and reluctantly pulled away, still staying within two feet of her. I grinned wickedly and playfully flicked the bow with my finger, causing her nose to twitch as I said merrily, "Love you too, Suzu-chan."

"So can we leave now or what?" she demanded impatiently, completely ignoring my careless remark.

I raised a brow. "I thought you didn't want to go anywhere with me. Why the sudden eagerness? Not that I'm complaining, of course," I added with a lecherous wink.

Her lip curled in distaste. "It's like ripping off a Band-Aid," she responded frankly, no sympathy in her voice whatsoever. I frowned. "The faster and sooner I do it, the quicker it'll be over with and I can get on with my life."

"I can't believe you just compared me to a bandage," I pointed out dryly. Suzu-chan had some creative insults, I'd give her that, but this was definitely a new one.

"_I_ can," she sneered in return, before walking over to the couch and snatching her plain gray zip-up hoodie and throwing it on jerkily. I chuckled, sauntering back over to my desk to gulp down the last of my nth cup of coffee today—

"So does that you're stuck on me, too?"*

—and proceeded to artfully dodge a well-aimed kick to the groin, laughing loudly all the while.

* * *

I scowled at my reflection on the glass tabletop, fingers twitching around my paper coffee cup. I wanted to rip out the bow _so bad_, it was like a physical pain, but unfortunately Orihara was my only guide in this city. I couldn't very well call any of my friends in school – they wouldn't have a way to pick me up anyway – or ring up Toshiyuki, for fear of any of them finding out about the scarlet-eyed jackass who kidnapped me in the first place. I had to play it (reluctantly) by his rules for the time being, until he decided to release me.

But I would get him back. Oh, would I, I thought, unconsciously staking my udon* violently with my chopsticks.

As though sensing the direction of my mind, the man across from me sent me a devious grin and promptly stole said slice of noodle from my bowl. Glowering darkly with a glare that could kill (apparently he was a ghost), I grudgingly let him. I wasn't that hungry anyway.

"Tell me why we're here again?" I demanded irritably. He hadn't actually told me why he dragged me off to some nondescript noodle shack at twelve-thirty in the after noon, but it was an intended jab, and so I sent him an according pointed look.

"To people watch," Orihara returned blithely, chewing his stolen noodle as he visibly enjoyed my discomfort. Oh, how my hand itched to pound that sexy smirk off his face…

Wait, _what?_ _Sexy?_ My chopsticks nearly clattered to the floor at the thought. I mean, sure he wasn't ugly or anything, but he was _Orihara. _AKA sadomasochistic psycho out for my blood and my secrets; as in, _not an option._

"People watch," I repeated flatly, perhaps a little too quickly, raising an unamused brow to cover up my inner embarrassment. Which wasn't entirely fake, either. I could think of thousands of different and better places where people watching would be a whole hell of a lot easier and more interesting than a fucking _udon side-restaurant_.

"And because I'm hungry. Obviously." He winked.

I shook my head and rolled my eyes, grumbling obscenities in English as I looked away from him to hide the slight flush spreading across my cheeks. Damn hormones. "I don't even know what to do with you anymore," I complained darkly, resting my chin on my hand. I wasn't lying, either. He was just so damn—

"That's too bad, Suzu-chan," he purred, leering. "I can think of a million things I could do with _you_."

—_Orihara._

Against my will, my slight flush flamed brilliantly. "Pedophile," I snapped, shoving my arms closer to my sides as I willed the hyper butterflies in my stomach to calm the hell down. It wasn't working.

"Age is but a number, Suzu-chan," he countered effortlessly. "Sometimes even I forget that you're only sixteen."

I raised a brow, not believing a word. "Really."

"Really," he grinned lecherously, gesturing lewdly with his chopsticks. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. He was so immature sometimes it made me sick. "It might have something to do with you turning seventeen in a few months*, but either way…" he trailed off suggestively, waggling his eyebrows. I returned the perverted expression with a blank and slightly disturbed one of my own, to which he laughed loudly.

Rolling my eyes for what seemed the millionth time since I met him, I poked violently at what was left of my udon. I was still sore all over, especially the pressure point in my neck that Orihara had abused to render me unconscious. Rubbing it unconsciously, I sighed and closed my eyes for a few moments, wishing I was back home in Ikebukuro taking a bath and maybe reading a book. I had always wanted to read _Kokoro _by Natsume Soseki*…

"Tired?"

I opened my eyes to look at him, frowning slightly at the interruption of my thoughts. His usual smirk was toned down quite a bit, no more than a slight upturn of the corners of his mouth, and he seemed to be just observing. Calculating.

I sighed, ruffling my black hair awkwardly. "What do you think?" I asked, bite absent as I aimed him a piercing glare. I wasn't in much of a mood to do anything but fantasize about sleeping. "I was kidnapped – _twice, _mind you – and knocked unconscious, through both physical and medicinal means. My entire body is sore all over from being trussed up like some fucking pig, and I barely got seven hours of sleep last night, and the past few nights I've barely gotten three or four. I can only take so much. Of course I'm goddamn _tired_."

He smiled a little then, amused at my expense, but didn't reply and carried on eating what was left of his own soup before, of course, eating the rest of mine. I let him. It was his money, anyway, and I wasn't even hungry.

By the time we stepped out of the small restaurant, it was nearing one. With nothing else to do for fear of getting lost, I followed Orihara as he took a left down the sidewalk into the main shopping center of Shinjuku, keeping a step or so behind him but far enough off to the side I could see his face. His strange red eyes seemed to never stay in one place for more than a few seconds at a time, constantly moving from person to person, like he couldn't get enough of what he saw. He wasn't even smiling or grinning like the pervert he actually was, but I could tell he was enjoying it; simply studying and memorizing and cataloguing anything and everything he could.

"You really like doing this, huh?" It slipped out before I could catch myself, and immediately afterward I stiffened in slight surprise.

Orihara did the same, but soon enough he was back to his old arrogant self, smirking widely at me from the side. "I love it. I love humans and everything they do and represent. They're just so…_amusing_," he grinned imperiously.

I frowned, a knot forming between my downturned brows. "…And you show your love by torturing and humiliating them?" What the hell kind of messed up PDA was _that_?

"Of course," he chuckled, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. "Humans on their own, I've learned, show only a limited display of emotions in their everyday lives. I want to see what it takes to create new ones, no matter the cost, and observe why and how and when they do so. What's the point of being able to do anything if you don't use it to its full potential, anyway?"

"You speak as though you aren't human yourself," I pointed out quietly.

"I do," he admitted, not teasing for once, "but only because, compared to the rest, I'm not." He glanced back at me then, scarlet eyes slightly narrowed with an unreadable emotion I couldn't even hope to decipher. I was suddenly extremely hyperaware of how little I truly knew about this man. Where he came from, what made him the way he was, pretty much everything. I mean, sure, I knew he liked to watch people and mindfuck for the hell of it and had a weird ootoro fetish, but that was about it. What about his family? His ambitions? His real likes and dislikes? Anything?

But that was what this game was all about, though, wasn't it? To see who could break the other first into revealing themselves. To see who could maneuver and shuffle the deck according to their hand in their favor and ultimately come out victorious.

Unconsciously, my lips thinned in determination. Only one of us could overcome the other, and there was no way in hell I'd let Orihara win.

* * *

"Workaholic? I mean, she _is_ talking on the phone in a dress suit."

"No, no, she's more likely a single mother out looking for a job. See the tailored hems on her cuffs and pant legs? Plus she's only carrying a purse, not a briefcase, and her hair is slightly mussed. She's probably just been rejected yet again and is arguing with the family member taking care of her kids while she's away."

"…You can read lips, can't you?"

"That helps, too."

I resisted the urge to kick Orihara in the shin. "Cheater," I groused.

"I'm not cheating; simply using all of the tools at my disposal. You're just jealous," he taunted smugly.

I rolled my eyes. Okay, I was jealous. But only a little bit. There hadn't been a rule saying that we could use anything but our eyes, but there hadn't been one saying we couldn't. Damn.

After leaving the restaurant, we (read: he) had decided to just wander around aimlessly and try to figure out people's lives just by what we could see of them. It had turned into a small game of sorts, and much to my chagrin he was miles ahead of me. He had been doing it for so long, after all. I mean, I've people watched before, but who hasn't? He just had a complex for it, and in all actuality I wasn't terribly devastated because of it. My forte with people was more of a reading the mood type of thing, and telling whether or not they were shady or trustworthy. And avoiding them in general, of course.

"What about him?" I asked, gesturing to a relatively normal-looking young man standing in front of an electronics store with his hands in his pockets, shifting around nervously as he peered at the window display. "He must be having money problems or something, with the way he's ogling that Wii like he wants to marry it and isn't going inside the store to buy it."

"Maybe," Orihara conceded. "But if you take a close look at his pants and shirt, they seem fairly new and expensive, his shoes are converse, and the watch on his wrist looks like a Rolex. He also seems to be looking between the Wii and the Xbox 360, like he can't decide. Probably some wealthy game otaku not knowing what to do with his allowance."

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. Now that he had pointed it out to me, what he said actually made a lot of sense. Izaya chuckled. Damn his hypersensitive panther ears.* "Then that girl—" I began, only to be cut off abruptly by a sharp tug on my arm that nearly made me fall flat on my face. The only thing keeping me upright was Orihara's hand on my wrist as he literally dragged me toward whatever had caught his interest _now_. "H-hey," I spluttered, trying vainly to tug my hand out of his firm grip. "What—?"

"Ice cream!" he exclaimed brightly, not even bothering to look back at me. I could still tell that he had that damnable grin on his face.

I nearly facepalmed. "Ice cream?" I echoed, flabbergasted and slightly embarrassed to be even seen with him. How much more childish could he _get?_

He didn't bother replying, or even acknowledging the strange glances we were getting as he yanked me across the street to what I recognized as a frozen treats stand. A vertically challenged woman looking to be in her early fifties was running it, and she greeted us with a warm smile when Orihara finally stopped his shoulder-popping torture and pulled me to a halt beside him. I rubbed at my already raw wrist with a slight frown, sending him a harsh glare out of the corner of my eye. I'd definitely have to kick him in the shin later.

"Why, hello there! What may I help you with today?" the woman said brightly.

"Hmm…let's see," Orihara pondered for a moment as he peered at the menu on the counter, before his eyes lit up like a kid in a toy store and he said, "One blueberry popsicle, and one chocolate pudding pop will do."

I raised a brow. "Why'd you get two? You can't possibly be that hungry after having eaten two large bowls of udon."

"Silly Suzu-chan!" he grinned, throwing an arm around my waist. I stiffened and went to push him off, but was suddenly very much aware of the cool metal pressing against my bare skin underneath my tank top. Shit. "I bought one for you and one for me! You like chocolate, right?"

My eye twitched, and I pasted on a smile that was more than a grimace than anything else. "Right," I gritted out.

"Oh, you two are such a cute couple!" the elderly woman gushed. Surprised, I turned away from Orihara to see her clasping her hands to her chest and smiling widely. I had nearly forgotten she was there. "I'll get your order right away!"

"W-we're not—" I was cut off by the blade twitching dangerously against my hip, and shivered, vividly remembering what had happened in my bedroom. My navel would probably scar indefinitely now, thanks to Orihara, but it wasn't that I was scared of him so much as I would prefer to keep myself in one piece. I knew all too well what that knife was capable of, and so I reluctantly shut my mouth as he pressed close to me and nuzzled the side of my face before planting a warm kiss on my cheekbone. Against my will, I could feel a flush heating my face at the intimate contact.

"I couldn't agree more," Orihara grinned as his strange scarlet eyes met my own pissed teal ones, arm tightening around me in warning. The woman squealed happily, and for her sake I did the same, although my smile was more of a snarl. At least I tried. Oblivious to my discomfort, she quickly retrieved our orders from the freezer at the back of the stand. Orihara paid and we left, but not without him calling back a cheery farewell along the way, of course.

Once the woman was out of eyeshot, I quickly wrenched myself out of his grip, nearly running into another person in the process. Far too busy glaring daggers at the crimson-eyed bastard who was munching contentedly on his Popsicle, I didn't give a damn. I myself was clutching my own chocolate treat in a white knuckled grip.

"That was highly uncalled for," I nearly spat, walking briskly alongside him.

"Was it?" he asked rhetorically around the frozen dessert in his mouth, almost sounding bored. Knowing better, I scowled at his nonchalant tone.

"Of course it was uncalled for!" I raged furiously, cheek still tingling with the memory of his lips.

"Your pudding will melt if you don't eat it soon," he pointed out blithely, completely ignoring my exclamation.

True enough, I could start to feel semi-cold globules beginning to run down my fingers. Before they could reach my sweatshirt, I threw the damned thing in the closest trash bin and wiped my hand on my jeans. I didn't even want it, anyway. Orihara raised an amused brow, but didn't say anything as he shoved his free hand in his jacket pocket and continued on his way.

I sighed angrily and gave up. There was just no way to deal with this hardhead of a man. Said bastard chuckled beside me and grinned. I didn't even bother this time, just simply ignored him and sullenly followed his lead. If I could just wait it out it would be over soon enough and I could go home and take a bath and eat some instant ramen and _sleep_.

So entranced by the thought, I didn't even notice that Orihara was trying to capture my attention until he roughly pinched my side. I yelped loudly and clutched my tortured waist, glaring fiercely at the once-annoyed-but-now-outright-laughing scarlet-eyed jackass standing across from me.

"Come on," he chuckled mirthfully, motioning to his left. I blinked in surprise. He was gesturing at a bench, and a wider scan of our surroundings found us in some sort of park, sans a playground. All it was, really, was just a small section of various clumps of grass, trees, benches, and paved walkways. A fountain gurgled in the middle of it all, though, which I guessed was all right.

Reluctantly, I followed Orihara and sat down as far away as I could form him in the limited space, only for him to immediately saddle up beside me, thighs touching. I rolled my eyes and he grinned, seeing right through my failed attempt at hiding the slight upward twitch of my lips. Bastard.

We sat there in an awkward silence for a while – on my part, at least. Orihara seemed to be having the time of his life, humming merrily as he bit at his Popsicle. I didn't think I would ever get used to his nearly unflappable carefree default demeanor.

I entertained myself with looking up at the overcast sky, wishing it was still sunny out like it was earlier. It was somewhat hard to believe that almost two hours had already gone by so fast. School would be getting out soon, I knew. I wondered what Anri-san, Mikado-san, and Kida were thinking. Knowing the former two, probably that I was sick and hoping I'd get better. Or something. And Blondie…Well, no one, even he himself, could predict his thoughts.

"What are you thinking about?" Orihara asked, breaking me from my inner musings. I glanced at him from the side, noting that he was finished his treat and had most likely thrown the wooden bit away in the trashcan next to him.

I frowned. What right did he have to be privy to my mind? "Killing you," I half-lied, scowling.

He snickered. "At this point I'm not surprised."

"I can't imagine why you would be," I muttered darkly, curling my fingers around my knees.

"Neither can I," Orihara agreed, highly amused if the laughing glint in his scarlet eyes and the wide grin split across his face said anything.

I snorted quietly, raising a dry brow. "Since when have you had an imagination for anything other than torture, food, and creative ways to humiliate people?"

"Since right…_now!_" he exclaimed gleefully, quickly pulling me into a headlock with his right arm. Surprised beyond belief, I barely even registered the dangers of our new position until his left hand skimmed along my sides. I let out a strangled laugh, beginning to panic. He was going to _tickle _me?

"S-stop," I managed to choke out, desperately clawing at his hands. "You can't—" I was cut off by another sharp jab that caused me to gasp loudly, attracting many an interested and/or amused and/or shocked and/or affronted* glance from the pedestrians around us.

I was suddenly very aware how very public and how very inappropriate the situation was, what with me half-sprawled in Orihara's lap with his hands all over my torso, and attempted to elbow him in the gut. He caught my arm, much to my chagrin, just before it connected with his ribcage. As a reward for my futile efforts, he began to tickle me relentlessly, and all I could do was spasm in his hold while trying to hold back my laughter as he chuckled happily into my ear.

"Who's the imaginative one now, hm?" he purred gleefully, thumb digging into my waist. The pain it caused turned my yelps into ones of pain, and I hissed angrily, humiliated. I was about to reply, only to be interrupted yet again – but this time by something I least expected.

"Izaya…what the hell are you doing?"

Orihara stilled his movements and stiffened behind me, and, grateful to whoever caused such a miracle, I took in many a satisfying lungful of air. Seeing my chance, I instantly tried to worm my way out of his hold, only for Orihara to seemingly remember himself and tighten his grip on my midsection.

"Why, Dotachin!" he exclaimed to somewhere over his shoulder, completely ignoring the man's question. "Long time no see! What brings you all the way to Shinjuku?"

With some effort, I managed to turn my head sideways enough to see this 'Dotachin'. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a serious face that looked to be around Orihara's age. He wore dark clothing and a hat-like bandanna over his head, partially obscuring his brown eyes. Neither ugly nor particularly attractive, I finally decided. He looked shady, but just gave off this 'I-don't-really-give-a-shit-about-your-problems' bored attitude. Maybe it had something to do with him stopping Orihara, at least temporarily, but I liked him. The only question was where and how he had come to know Orihara.

The man frowned at being called 'Dotachin', but didn't say anything about it. "Pit stop on business," he murmured gruffly instead, gesturing to the plastic bag in his hand. It had the logo of some local grocery store on it, but its meaning was lost to me. Orihara, however, recognized it instantly.

"Oh, did the otaku munchkins run low on their favorite flavor of instant ramen again?" he asked merrily, to which 'Dotachin' nodded. I raised a brow at his wording. "Tsk, tsk," he chided, waggling the index finger on his free hand. I held back the urge to bite it off. "How irresponsible of them! And to answer your question, I'm just spending some quality time with my dear Suzu-chan!"

"You're such a bastard," I snapped, still slightly out of breath, which earned another sharp jab to my side. I gasped automatically and elbowed him roughly in the sternum, to which Orihara disguised his pained grunt as a laugh and 'Dotachin' raised an eyebrow. At least, I think he did. I couldn't quite tell due to his weird hat thing, but I could see the hem of it move above his right eye.

"I shouldn't have asked," the man said tiredly and began to turn away. I got the feeling he had seen a lot of Orihara's antics and then some.

"Aw, going so soon?" the scarlet-eyed man pouted. I wrinkled my nose at his overly-saccharine tone.

"Erika, Walker, and Togusa are waiting," he began to explain over his shoulder. "I—" he was suddenly cut off when a short black-haired girl (woman? I couldn't tell) flew out of nowhere and tackled his midsection, a taller sandy-haired young man in tow.

"Dotachiiiiiiiiiiiin~!" she whined, clinging to his jacket desperately. "You're so _slow!_ I was beginning to think you had been attacked by a Hollow* or something!"

"Yeah!" the other agreed, before catching sight of the bag in a flabbergasted and slightly embarrassed 'Dotachin's' hand. He quickly snatched it up with an even brighter smile. The girl let go (much to 'Dotachin's' relief) and ran over to him and nearly ripped the bag to shreds in the process of opening it. I couldn't help but watch in slightly disturbed awe as they then hugged excitedly, the ramen cups squashed between their two bodies as they jumped up and down. A quick glance to my right told me that Orihara was desperately trying to hold in his laughter at the scene and quickly becoming red-faced for his efforts.

'Dotachin' sighed exasperatedly and waved a dismissive hand. "Never mind," he grumbled tiredly.

"This happens often, doesn't it?" I asked him half-rhetorically, not taking my eyes off of the near-food orgy happening in front of me. He snorted and shoved his hands into his pockets and gave me a pointed look.

I took that as a yes.

As if suddenly and magically sensing my presence, the two unexpectedly stopped and turned to me, still embracing. I raised a brow at their wide-eyed look of inexplicable adoration. Orihara shook beside me with silent laughter.

"What—?" I tried to ask them, only to be interrupted as they literally hopped over the backrest of the bench and hauled me from Orihara's now-lax grip and pulled me into a three-way hug that I did _not_ reciprocate.

"Oh my Zelda!" the female, who I now presumed to be Erika, squealed, crushing my ribcage. "You're that girl from TV who was in a fight the other day! Uwaa! That punch was so tsundere! You're absolutely heroine worthy!"

"Like Sakura Haruno!" the guy – either Walker or Togusa, I wasn't sure – added, squeezing my sore shoulder blades so hard I was seeing stars.

"No way!" Erika protested loudly, tightening her hold on my middle. I wheezed loudly. Oblivious, she continued, "She's more like Rukia Kuchiki! They look totally similar!"

"But Saku-chan is way cooler!"

"Nu-uh! Ruki-chama is ten times more moe!"

"Baka! Sakura is—"

"_Actually_," I interrupted with some effort, clearing my throat loudly, "I prefer to be compared to Naomi Misora from Death Note, if I have to be compared _at all_."

The two stilled their obsessive glomping, for which I was grateful, only to regret opening my mouth when they hugged me even harder and cried in unison like a couple of banshees, "_So tsundere!"_

I choked violently, my lungs abruptly cut off from any air whatsoever. It took a lot of tugging and pulling on Dotachin's part and a whole _hell of a lot_ of laughing on Orihara's to get them off of me, and when they were done I reluctantly stumbled back onto the bench to catch my breath, wheezing noisily. I'd heard about people needing to breathe when being hugged too hard all the time in books and stuff, but never had I actually experienced something like that before. I decided I definitely didn't want to ever again.

Once I had caught my breath, I aimed a well-planned kick to Orihara's shin (as promised), who was still laughing with his head in his hands. Unfortunately, it only seemed to make him laugh harder, so I left him to his own devices. He wasn't worth it, anyway.

"I'm really sorry about that," 'Dotachin' apologized awkwardly, trying to hold back the two flailing otaku in his arms at the same time, both of which who were shouting various respective versions of anime and/or manga slang in my direction.

My brow ticked. "Don't worry about it," I dismissed roughly before clearing my throat. "It's not your fault," I said, this time more clearly.

'Dotachin' winced in sympathy before dragging the two off in some random direction, the guy yelling out "Call me!" as he flung a piece of paper in the air, presumably with his number on it. I didn't bother to go and pick it up, opting to rub morosely at my sore midsection. Japan, I decided, had some serious issues with violence. Or maybe that was just Orihara and those associated with him, but eh. I was too tired to care.

Speaking of said bastard, he had calmed down somewhat and was in the middle of wiping the tears of mirth from his red eyes (pun intended) when I leveled him with a flat stare. He smirked impishly in return, before standing up and motioning for me to follow him. Reluctantly, I did so.

"Where are you taking me _this_ time?" I demanded impatiently. I'd had plenty enough excitement for the day, thankyouverymuch.

"Back to my office," he said honestly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "It's already two. It's a long walk to Ikebukuro, and you need to be dressed in your uniform when you go home, right? Or do you want your uncle to find out just where you've been?"

I scowled. "Is this your subtle way of telling me you went through my closet?"

"That, too," he grinned.

* * *

After a good round of inner bitch-slapping and a not-so inner one-sided pissing match, we arrived at his office and he left me to change in the bathroom while he checked his computer or whatever the hell he did on a regular basis. I pulled the stupid bow out of my hair and threw it in the trash with relish, happy to see myself staring back at me in the bathroom mirror again. Quickly, I changed, eager to go home. At the very least, Orihara left my undergarments alone (as far as I could tell, anyway. I'd have to check once I got back to make sure and deal with him accordingly.)

When I walked back into the main room, dirty clothes in hand, he was sitting in his desk chair, spinning in it like a little kid. I frowned. "Don't make me smack you," I warned, slamming my hand down on the hardwood. He stopped spinning, only to lean back and prop his shoe-clad feet on top of them. I retracted them quickly and held them to my chest, glaring pointedly.

"It depends on where you'd be smacking me, Suzu-chan," he cackled, resting his arms behind his head.

I rolled my eyes and tugged on my sweatshirt to cover up the rope burns on my wrists. I'd have to wear armbands or something later. "Whatever, you pervert. Are we going or not?"

He sighed overdramatically, hanging his head in disappointment. "Fine…" he grumbled, hauling himself out of his chair like it was the biggest burden in the world. I don't know. Maybe for him, it was, but in either case I was going to start hauling _him_ out the door if he didn't hurry the hell up. "You can leave your clothes here for now. I'll bring them back to you when I next pop over," he said, motioning to the couch as he slipped on his jacket.

I raised a brow, not liking the idea of him coming over to my house for a third time, but grudgingly threw them on the sofa all the same. It was a necessary sacrifice. Fortunately, we were on the streets again soon enough. Unfortunately, however, it was about an hour's worth of a walk back to Ikebukuro. He wasn't lying when he said it would be long. Figures his office/flat would be on the farthest side of town, I grumbled inwardly.

I attempted to get rid of him at that point, but he would have absolutely none of it and stuck to my side like glue. Thankfully he let me walk my own way (read: the back streets) and simply followed behind me a couple of feet. I had a feeling he was ogling my ass, but I was so tired I didn't even care anymore.

Eventually I had to venture out into the more populated roads, but I planned to keep my head down so that no one from school could recognize me. Orihara wisely stayed a few yards behind me, but he was sidling up to me before I knew it. I gave him a pointed glare, opening my mouth to tell him to get the hell away, only to be interrupted by someone I least expected.

"Suzumi?"

I whirled around at the familiar, flabbergasted voice, heart flying into my throat as I was greeted by the sight of the surprised person I least wanted to see at that moment. Even Orihara stiffened beside me, unsheathing his hands from his pockets.

"K-Kida?"

* * *

**MUAHAHAHAHA.** That is all. C:

Lol jk. xD

*There's a jingle in the USA from a Band-Aid commercial that goes, "I'm stuck on Band-Aid brand 'cause Band-Aid's stuck on me!" It's sung by a little kid, too. So cute! I just couldn't help myself haha.

*Udon is a type of Japanese soup, if you hadn't already inferred. :D

*Okay, so before you guys ask, she will obviously be turning seventeen in a few months. June 17, to be exact. Lol coincidence yay. xD Aywho, right now in fic!canon it's the second week of May, as Japanese schooling usually starts around April. I know I said in the first chapter she decided to go to Japan when she _turned_ sixteen, and she did. She just didn't actually arrive in Japan until now. :P

***THE. BEST. BOOK. **_**EVAR.**_** READ IT. NOW. :V**

*In chapter three I had this slight spiel about relating Izaya to a panther. I didn't know if anyone would remember that, so I put the asterisk just in case.

*In Japan, PDA is something that is considered highly rude, as intimate acts are considered very private and it is a disgrace to do it in public. Even holding hands and hugging is highly offensive, and while it is slowly becoming more lenient due to western influence, it still has a very short leash.

*Lol Bleach. Vicious heartless monsters. Think rabid huge-ass Pokémon with theatre masks. ;D

*If you have any questions about the terms/anime/manga used, then just look them up. This asterisk section is long enough as it is. I will say, though, that Naomi Misora is very similar to Suzumi. I didn't even notice it at first when I began writing this. Weird. o_O

I titled this _**Guess Who**_ because of Izaya and Suzumi's little guessing game, Erika and Walker's comparing her to manga/anime characters, and, obviously, because of my evil cliffhanger kufufufufu. :D

And I've decided to make this section a Q&A type thing, since I received a question last chapter from an anonymous reviewer. I would have replied to them via PM, but like I said, they were anonymous. Others who don't have accounts or are too lazy to get one and/or review might have the same question too. So, here you go. :D

**When will the next chapter be out?**

I try to update every weekend, on either Saturday or Sunday. Sometimes I might be a day or two late, but I haven't gone past Tuesday, and I don't plan to. Chapter nine will most likely be out on Sunday. I can't quite tell, because my motivation is very erratic and comes in bursts, and I also start school on the seventh. Who knows? It might even be out on Friday.

**If any of you have questions, feel free to ask**. I'll post them and answer them here in this section in the next chapter accordingly if I think doing so will benefit all of the other people who read this story – unless you post anonymously, of course, and the question you ask only pertains to you or a select few. I would prefer you leave your e-mail if that's the case, so I can contact you directly. I won't answer any questions about what happens in the story later on. 

As always, thanks for reading, and please review! :D


	9. Black Maria

**Title:** Snowblind

**Author:** DeadSummerXx

**Characters/Pairing:** Izaya Orihara & OC

**Type:** Continuous (Incomplete)

**Genre:** Romance/General/Humor

**Word Count:** 4,480

**Rating:** M (Contains content suitable for mature teens and older)

**Disclaimer:** Durarara! belongs to its respective owners.

**Summary:** In a trial of insanity and hope, the fine line between truth and lies is nonexistent, and even the smallest of errors can blind you into believing the unbelievable. But then again, of what worth is a game when one does not have a worthy opponent?

**Created on:** 9/6/10

**Completed on:** 9/9/10

**Chapter Last Revised on:** 9/9/10

**A/N:** WOOT. EARLY UPDATE FOR MY LOVELIES BECAUSE ILY. HEARTHEARTHEART :DDD

(Although this chapter is kind of short. Not even 5,000 words…:'C

**BUT THERE IS A SURPRISE FOR YOU AT THE END *3***)

So…school was eh…okay. For Hell, at least. I'm just glad that tomorrow is Friday. WOCHENENDEN SIND MEINE LEBEN 8DDDD

Lmao I was writing the last half of this in Study Hall, and I couldn't stop grinning maniacally. Cue weird looks and/or snickers from peers rofl. I almost got my notebook confiscated because of it. Which would have been _really really really _bad because then my parents would have found out and I would be skinned alive with my mom's sewing machine. Yosh.

But luckily it didn't, so this is here for you. Und Ich hath benkyou suru na watashi no lesson da, and I won't do it again. Gerpanglish ftw. Huge-ass cookies to whoever can understand that kthxbai. :I

**Oh, and read the bottom A/N to see why I named this chapter **_**Black Maria**_** if you haven't figured it out by the end of it.

* * *

**

_Chapter Nine_

_**Black Maria

* * *

**_

"_Suzumi?"_

_I whirled around at the familiar, flabbergasted voice, heart flying into my throat as I was greeted with the sight of the surprised person I least wanted to see at that moment. Even Orihara stiffened beside me, unsheathing his hands from his pockets._

"_K-Kida?"

* * *

_

This cannot be happening, I thought frantically. _This cannot be happening._

But as I looked into Kida's wide, confused brown eyes, I knew that I was lying to myself. I was in huge trouble, and I was sure that no amount of sweet-talking could worm my way out of this, if Blondie's nearly devastated face was anything to go by. Unconsciously, I swallowed thickly past the lump in my throat. It didn't help.

Typically, Orihara was first to break the near-deafening silence between us. "Well, well, if it isn't Kida-kun," he said merrily, but I could tell it lacked his usual sarcastic sting and that his wide grin didn't quite meet his eyes. He was annoyed, I realized numbly. "What a coincidence meeting you here."

Seeming to come back to himself, said blond boy frowned and glared harshly at him, fists clenching white-knuckled at his sides. I was so shocked by his fierce expression that I barely even registered when he bitingly snarled, "What the hell are you doing with her?"

"What's with the face?" Orihara asked teasingly, becoming a bit more of his usual bastardly self. I could tell he was enjoying this, and frowned darkly. "Am I not allowed to keep the company I so choose?"

"Not when it's her, or any of my friends," Kida bit out, fists twitching like he wanted nothing more than to pummel him to the ground.

"Friends?" Orihara barked out a laugh. "I don't think she's much of a friend when she'd blow you off just to spend the day with _me_."

I gawked openly at him, the lying twofaced _son of a bitch_. The nerve! Without even giving it a second thought, I roughly grabbed onto his collar and hauled him down to my level (damn height differences to hell) and then practically spat, "_Blow him off?_ You _kidnapped _me! _Twice!_"

Orihara grinned. "Did I now? What about the other day at lunch when you went to the roof to speak with me instead of having lunch with him back in the classroom, hm?"

I stumbled for words, not even daring to glance at Kida and see his most likely hurt expression. "Y-you…We've _had_ this conversation before! I know you would have actually hunted me down in front of my peers! I don't even _like_ you! In fact, I hate your guts! The only reason I'm playing this fucking hell of a game with you is—"

"Game?" Kida interrupted, voice laced chokingly with disbelief.

I stared at him guiltily, trying to find the right words to say and just how to say them, someway to make this _right,_ and came up blank. Orihara, however, had plenty to spew.

"That's right, Kida-kun," he purred victoriously. "Suzu-chan and I are playing a game. We have been for the past three days."

"_Three days?_" he blurted, staring at me incredulously. I could see a spark of anger flaming in his eyes, and averted my gaze uncomfortably, dropping Orihara's collar from my grip. He stepped away with a smile on his face, adjusting his oh-so-ruffled jacket smugly.

_Dammit._ This was the worst day _ever_.

I could tell Orihara was about to throw out another insult, so I quickly whirled around on him and jabbed a finger on his chest. "Don't you even fucking _dare_," I hissed angrily. "I don't want to see or hear hide or tail of you for the rest of the day. I would say the rest of the week, but I know what I'm demanding already is a stretch. And no, that _does not mean that you can stalk me_, and if you even _think_ about barging into my room again I will kick your sadomasochistic ass so hard into next week _your mother_ _will be able to feel it_."

"Even if it's just to give you back your clothes?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear – _knowing _just what he had done and _loving _it.

"_What?"_ Kida all but shrieked, attracting many a glance from those around us.

"No! Nononono_no__**no**_, that isn't what it sounds like!" I denied fiercely. "Oh _**ew**_**, **fuck that would be the most disgusting thing _ever_," I ignored Orihara's faux-insulted pout, "It's just that when he kidnapped me for the second time to spend the day with me, I was dressed in regular clothing, and my uncle thinks I was at school, so I needed to be dressed in my uniform to go home and I didn't have anything to carry my regular clothes in without seeming suspicious so I left them at his flat and…"

Kida's brows had shot up nearly to his hairline, and he was staring at me speechlessly. I myself was at a loss for anymore words to say, even as he shook his head in bewilderment and began, "This is…_you're—"_

"Look," I said, slightly breathless from the urge to puke as I interrupted him. Oh, how I detested what nervousness did to me. "It's almost four and I need to be home before my uncle thinks something is up. I promise I'll explain everything to you later, okay? Soon. Really, really soon."

"No," he refused stubbornly, surprising me. I blinked. "I'll walk you home and you can explain what you can on the way. If you can't fit everything in by then, we'll meet up later." He cast a withering glare at the grinning scarlet-eyed man, and I instantly understood why he didn't say exactly where to meet up. Although Orihara was casually half turned away with his hands in his pockets while looking up at the clouds with a bored expression on his face, seeming for all the world like he wasn't listening, it was blaringly obvious he was doing just the opposite.

Noticing our stares, he turned to us and pasted on an innocent look. The maniacal grin threatening to split across his lips ruined it, though. "Aww, don't want me tagging along?"

"No," Kida and I said firmly at the same time, before glancing at each other in astonishment.

Orihara laughed, throwing his head up and baring his neck to the sky. "I'll leave you two to your own devices, then." He smirked, and I raised a brow at his unusual compliance. This could only mean that he was planning something. "Call you later, Suzu-chan!" he sang joyfully, waving as he skipped off into the sunset (more like jostled through a shitload of pedestrians off into the ghetto, but whatever.) I scowled darkly at his last comment, taking out my phone and shutting it off. Asshole.

"You can start _now_," Kida said tightly, shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pockets and taking off toward the direction of my house. Briefly, I wondered how he knew, but then remembered he'd walked me home the first day I'd met him.

Unused to his uncharacteristically commanding tone and slightly disturbed by it, I fumbled for words before I hurriedly gathered my wits. Normally I would have asked why he wanted to know so badly and was so deathly serious and angry about it instead, but I had a feeling it had something to do with his reason for hating Orihara so much, and despite being friends, I didn't know him nearly well enough to burrow into something so personal – whatever it was.

"It's…it's not what you think," I finally began. Kida glanced back at me, scowling with a raised brow.

"I don't know _what_ to think right now," he said flatly, turning back harshly. "So just explain – from the beginning. Tell me everything."

I pursed my lips, but acquiesced all the same. He stayed silent throughout the whole ordeal and let me talk without interruption as I gave a brief account of how I had met Orihara on the roof, along with our following conversation (leaving out the gory and/or embarrassing details, of course – which was pretty much the whole thing), before moving onto how he stole my cell and visited me for lunch, got into a skirmish with me, and visited my house all in the same day (again, leaving out the details, mostly his obscene groping; that was _not _something I wanted revealed), visiting me in the morning to 'talk', and his most recent kidnapping stunt – stunt_**s**_, pardon me. His eyes widened at that part, but I quickly told him how I kicked their asses before he could blow a gasket. I left out Celty-san, too. I didn't think she would appreciate something like that.

When I finished, I let out a sigh and turned onto my street, unbearably nervous. Despite not really liking Kida at first and still occasionally finding him annoying, he was a friend, and one of my first besides Mikado-san and Anri-san…and maybe Celty-san? I wasn't sure, but either way I didn't want to lose the closeness between us. It was because of that I didn't say anything and let him stew in silence as we stood still a few houses down from mine, until he opened his mouth to finally speak.

"What I don't—" was all he managed to get out before someone loudly called my name from behind me.

I whirled around, as did Kida, annoyed, until I caught sight of my uncle waving from the drive. My anger quelled slightly into a simmering disappointment, and across from me the blond was pursing his lips and clenching his jaw. He caught my apologetic gaze and nodded curtly, muttering out a sullen, "Text you in an hour so we can meet up." I inclined my head diffidently, the fact that he was pissed discordantly apparent. In spite of this, however, he somehow managed to paste on a bright smile and wave energetically at my uncle in return as his normal self would have. I would have actually thought he was his usual self if it weren't for our previous conversation.

He glanced at me one last time before leaving, giving me a strange look I couldn't decipher – even as the hour passed as I greeted my uncle and surreptitiously cleaned my wounds and aches before dressing in regular clothing, eating, and turning on my phone. I was still mulling it over when my cell vibrated obnoxiously, signaling the promised text. Startled, I fumbled around a bit (I had been laying on my bed trying to resist the alluring pull of sleep) before finally grabbing hold of it and flipping it open.

_**Sent by Masaomi Kida at 5:17 pm**_

_Meet me at Ikebukuro Koen* in twenty minutes. I'll lead you from there._

The park? I frowned at the last bit, but deleted the message and turned off my phone all the same before hauling myself up from the bed and slipping on my blue zip-up hoodie. Where on Earth would he lead me? No place came to mind, and I was still inwardly scowling when I told Toshiyuki, who was grading papers at the dinner table, that I was going out to meet a friend.

"Is it a boy?" he asked slyly, taking off his reading glasses and giving me a wink.

I stared back at him flatly. I loved this man dearly, but when he tried to be matchmaker it was…no. Just _no_. "You wish," I lied. He chuckled. "Anri-san keeps getting her shoes stolen and needs a new pair. She asked me to go shopping with her to get some."

"That's too bad," he frowned, chewing dourly on the tip of his pen. "Will you be home for supper?"

"I don't know," I replied honestly, slipping on my flats. "But don't plan on it, I guess. I'll call you if I'm not and grab a bite outside, but I'm not sure when that'll be. If I'm home in time for supper and you've already eaten I'll just make myself a sandwich or something."

"All right," he said, shuffling one of the stacks of paper around him before adopting a stern look. I nearly rolled my eyes, knowing full-well what was coming. "Just be careful and be home before dark, you hear?"

"Loud and clear," I said, a little exasperatedly. He was just worried about me, but when he said it practically every five minutes it got really old really fast.

"You better," he teased, pointing at me pseudo-threateningly with his pen. "Now shoo, shoo. Don't keep the poor girl waiting."

I really did roll my eyes that time, but still bid him farewell. "See you, Toshiyuki-oji-san."

"Bye, Suzu-chan," he smiled.

I nodded and opened the door, locking it behind me. Kida was waiting for me on a bench when I finally arrived at Ikebukuro Koen, sitting and glaring fixedly at the ground between his trainers, a deep scowl on his face. I instantly felt my stomach drop.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," I attempted awkwardly, shuffling my feet in hopes of relieving the ache in them. It didn't work. "Traffic on the sidewalk was awful."

"It's fine. I just got here," he muttered quietly, standing up with his hands in his pockets and avoiding my gaze completely. I unconsciously creased my brow, not able to tell if he was lying or not, but didn't press. I had enough experience with reading the atmosphere to know that even the slightest thing could set Kida off, however he would do that. I couldn't quite picture him being mad, but if his current state said anything it was that he had more sides to him than just his normal default mode of Hyper Perv, and that I didn't want to figure out what those were.

"So…What did you want to say before my uncle interrupted you?" I asked cautiously, striding alongside him as he began to make his way effortlessly through the crowds on the street.

His lips thinned despite his shoulders slumping, and didn't say anything. I wisely kept silent until he stopped walking roughly fifteen minutes later in front of an old warehouse in the older part of town. Thankfully it wasn't the warehouse district where the abandoned love hotel was, but it still gave me the creeps.

"This place is safe," he said over his shoulder, pushing up the sliding metal door. "No one will bother us here."

I followed him into the warehouse, holding back a sneeze at the dank musty smell of dust and age and smoke that greeted me, confused beyond belief. How the hell would Kida, a mere teenage boy, know about a place like this?

But as he closed the entrance behind him and flipped on the light switch, I decided it didn't really matter. There were much more important things to focus on. While the dim fluorescent lights slowly flickered to life above us, Kida made himself at home on one of the old crates on the far side of the room. Cautiously, I followed his lead and sat beside him, wincing when the old wood creaked beneath our combined weight.

He didn't seem to notice, staring intently at his feet. I nervously, but patiently, waited for him to speak again, wringing my hands quietly into the fabric of my sweatshirt sleeves.

"So…I understand all of the reasons why you were missing and everything, and why you actually skipped lunch that day," he finally began, not looking at me. "What I just don't get is why you agreed to play the game in the first place."

I sighed, having had the feeling he was going to ask that sooner or later. "It's not something I'm proud to admit," I confessed softly. I wasn't lying, either. "Ever since I was a small girl I've had a worth complex. That fact was only compounded when my father died and I began getting into a lot of fights in LA. My pride wouldn't let me back down from a challenge like that." I swallowed thickly. "Besides, I think you know even better than me that once Orihara sets his mind to something not even divine intervention can stop him from getting what he wants."

"And just what does he _want_?"

I bit my lip, hands unconsciously fisting in anger. "Me," I stated flatly. "All of me."

"You mean…" he trailed off shakily, honey brown eyes wide with disbelief.

"Yeah." I pursed my lips. "That's why I couldn't back down."

He shook his head angrily, fists clenching as he hissed to himself, "That _bastard_…"

"Mm," I agreed simply.

"What do you even _do_?" Kida asked incredulously.

"It depends on who you mean by 'you'; me, or both of us?"

"Both." He frowned.

"Well…" I exhaled noisily. "For the most part he tries to get a reaction from me, and I try to do my best to at least stay in the same mood, which is apparently a de facto mode of pissed. He still seems to enjoy the challenge, though."

"That sounds like him," the blond replied bitterly.

"No kidding," I groused. "It's especially bad when he's in one of his unusual moods and goes all knife-happy on me." The words slipped out without my consent, and I instantly regretted saying anything.

"He does _what?"_ Kida spluttered, staring at me with wide eyes.

"Erm…The day on the street when he slashed me across my stomach. Remember?" _And when he snuck into my room and did it all over again,_ I added inwardly. "And my neck…" I arched my head toward the ceiling, squinting my eyes against the harsh fluorescent lights as I pulled down my collar to show him the partially healed gash from the first night I met him.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Kida blurted quickly, although I could tell he really meant 'me' in place of 'us'. "Your uncle? Anyone? Hell, even that perv Nasujima-sensei would've been better than just keeping it to yourself! Orihara is more dangerous than you can possibly imagine."

"That's exactly why I didn't tell you," I defended angrily, turning back to him. "Maybe you yourself have a history with him, whatever the hell that is, but Anri-san and Mikado-san _don't_, and neither does my uncle. I don't want them dragged anymore into this than they already are by just being associated with me. And I'm pretty sure that, for you, if you never saw Orihara again it would be far too soon."

Kida clicked his tongue furiously and went back to staring at the cement, brows drawn angrily to pinch his face in ire. I could hear him grinding his teeth loudly, knowing that I was right. Finally he sighed tiredly, but I could still see the stress writhing in his tense shoulders.

"I'm sorry," I said softly, honestly. "What I've done is stupid and idiotic, but not agreeing would have been even stupider. This is the only way I can defend myself. Besides," I smiled weakly in a lame attempt at humor, "I've been giving as good as I've gotten."

Kida chuckled humorlessly, no doubt remembering the fight on the street the other day. Running a white-knuckled hand through his hair, he sighed heavily again. "You have to stop," he said thickly. "Somehow. Move to another city, another country. Something. You just have to get away from him."

"You know very well that I can't do that," I pressed, frustrated. "Goodness knows how much I want to, but it's just impossible. The only thing I _can_ do is try to spin my way out of his web."

"That's going to be a hell of a lot harder than you'd think," he pointed out blandly.

"Yeah, so I'm learning," I muttered dourly, kicking at a wood chip on the floor and scowling when I missed.

A pregnant silence settled between us then, only broken by the occasional _plip_ of water leaking from a pipe somewhere on the other side of the warehouse. I began to fidget slightly, literally twiddling my thumbs to distract myself from the dark scowl twisting the features of the blond beside me. I wanted to blame this all on Orihara, but I knew that I was at fault, too.

"…Kida," I began quietly, nervous about what I was going to say, but it was most likely now or never. He glanced up at me through the fringe of his golden bangs, waiting for me to speak. "You don't have to answer this or anything, it's just…Why do you hate Orihara so much? I mean, don't get me wrong. He's a sadomasochistic psycho of an asshole, but…it just seems deeper than that for you."

"…Because it is," he replied after a tense moment of hesitation. He didn't elaborate, and I left it at that.

"…Will you tell them?" I asked uncertainly.

He looked at me quizzically for a moment, before realization flashed across his face. "…No," he finally said grudgingly, averting his eyes, "not unless I think it's imperative to your and/or their safety. What Mikado and Anri-chan don't know won't hurt them – for now, at least. I know you're not a pushover or anything, just…be careful around him, all right?"

"I will be," I promised, reaching over to tentatively give him what I hoped was a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. I wasn't much one for physical contact, but it felt like I needed to do this for him.

He snorted at the touch, rolling his eyes. I frowned, worried. Had I done something funny? "I should be the one comforting you," he teased jokingly, although I could tell there was a hint of seriousness in his mocha orbs.

I smiled wryly. "I can take care of myself, Kida. Trust me. I have been for most of my life."

"That makes me wish you were lying just to make me feel better," he replied quietly, reaching up to clasp my fingers in his. I nearly jumped as the soft heat of his hand enveloped my own, and quickly hid my reaction. "But if you were it would mean that Orihara would win, so I'm glad, too."

I shook my head at him, understanding that he was talking about my past. "What is, is, and I'm not complaining. The only thing I can do is move forward."

Something shifted in his eyes then, slight smile dropping from his boyish features. He suddenly seemed millions of miles away from me despite our close proximity, and I hesitantly began to draw my hand away, bereft. His fingers clenched firmly down on mine before I could fully do so, however, and he seemed to float partially back down to the present, meeting my confused teal gaze with an unreadable one of his own. I was about to ask what was wrong, but he had already turned away and dropped his conflicted stare back to the floor.

It was a cold gesture, but the firm warmth of his hand over mine was more than enough to make up for it.

* * *

_**Tsubomi has entered the chat room.**_

_**Tsubomi:**__ 'Banwa~!_

I nearly spat out my coffee, before swallowing thickly and grinning from ear to ear. I hadn't been expecting Suzu-chan to be on, but I most certainly wasn't complaining.

_**Setton:**__ Good evening, Tsubomi-san. How have you been these past few days? _

_**Kanra:**__ Tsumi-chan! You went away again! You better have a good excuse for blowing me off~ _

_**Tsubomi:**__ I'm really sorry, Kanra-chan. Some family business came up and I had to go up north for a while. I missed school today, too._

_**Tanaka Taro:**__ Really? That's strange. My friend missed school today, also._

Laughing aloud at the sheer irony, I propped my chin in my hand and gazed at the computer screen with scarlet eyes narrowed in mirth. Oh, the stupidity of teenagers. This was what made it so totally worth it to stay up into the ungodly hours of the morning.

_**Kanra:**__ Aww, that's too bad. I hope everything's okay~_

_**Tsubomi:**__ Everything's fine. Thank you for your concern ^^_

_**Kanra:**__ What are friends for~? _

_**Setton:**__ Have any of you heard about the man that was found murdered this afternoon?_

_**Kanra:**__ Which one~? ;D_

_**Setton:**__ The one in the Shinjuku ghetto.*_

_**Tanaka Taro:**__ I saw that on the local news. It's crazy how the deaths around here just keep escalating…_

_**Tsubomi:**__ No, I don't think I have. What happened?_

_**Kanra:**__ Some guy in his thirties was found bound and gagged with various wounds all over. The police think he was tortured, but no one's quite sure yet. It was probably the work of some gang~_

I didn't get the chance to see Suzu-chan's or anyone else's reply, for the door to my office opened and loudly slammed against the adjacent wall. Casually, I turned to the source of the noise and unceremoniously logged out of chat without even looking at the screen. I'd excuse myself with a power outage later or something. Right now the important thing was the furious Namie Yagiri stalking angrily over to my desk, lab coat rustling crossly at her ankles and brown eyes glittering with malice.

"Namie-san!" I greeted cheerfully, despite my annoyance. The sooner I got this over with the sooner I could go back online. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Cut the bullshit, Orihara," she hissed, slamming her open hand down on the hardwood of my desk. I didn't even flinch at the resounding _crack_, smirking as I imagined her nursing her aching hand later. "No one screws with my company and gets away with it. _No one._"

"Pardon?" I raised a brow, smiling not-so-innocently and relishing in her responding eye twitch.

"Last night another test subject was supposed to be delivered to my office," she all but snarled. I could see her composure quickly fraying, and I couldn't wait for her tip over the edge. "She never arrived. Lo and behold, I found that you were out of your office almost all of the day, and some girl's clothing is sprawled on your couch. Do you have _any idea_ the money your little stunt cost me?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I lied. "I simply like to collect female clothing and sniff them."

Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, fists clenching furiously at her sides. "You will regret this, Izaya Orihara. Next time you'll think twice about messing with _me_."

I chuckled mirthfully, not even bothering to respond before she turned on her heel and practically stomped from the room and slammed the door behind her for good measure. Whatever she could dish out would never be able to compare what I could swing back in return. My ruthless grin slowly faded into a mildly disconcerted frown, chat room completely forgotten as realization slowly dawned on me.

I may have had the resources to counter Namie-san, but Suzu-chan was a different story entirely.

* * *

*_Koen_ is the Japanese term for 'park'.

*Cookies to whoever thought of Code Geass xD

**Why did you title this chapter **_**Black Maria?**_

Not to be confused with the British-originated card game of the same name, the Finnish version, colloquially titled Mustamaija, has the rough English translation of _Black Maria. Black Maria_ is not a trick taking game like Hearts - it is a beating game of the multiple attack type. There is no winner, only a loser of each hand. The loser is the player who is left holding the mustamaija (spade queen, or _Black Maria_) when all the other players have run out of cards.

In this instance, Izaya is the loser, and Suzumi is the _Black Maria_ **and** the other player along with Kida and Namie. Suzumi and Kida have run out of cards to play, and must let themselves be pulled along on strings by Izaya. Izaya is the loser because, while he still has Suzumi, he is also cornered by Namie at the same time. This doesn't mean, of course, that the cards won't be re-dealt later on kufufufu. *feels diabolical*

**Why did you change the summary of **_**Snowblind**_**?**

Some of you may have noticed in your automatic e-mails that the summary has changed from _"Change, a diversion from the norm. It was something Suzumi Yanase longed for, and something she welcomed. It was just a shame that she didn't know what she was getting into, by moving to Ikebukuro. IzayaOC"_ to _"In a trial of insanity and hope the fine line between truth and lies is indistinguishable. Even the smallest of errors can blind you into believing the unbelievable. But then again, of what worth is a game when one does not have a worthy opponent? IzayaOC"._ I changed it because my original summary was seriously half-assed and barely described what was going on. Plus the new one is much more alluring – at least in my opinion – so I'm a lot happier with it. :D

**What was Suzumi's result for the infamous Seme-Uke Quiz?**

Oh yeah, that's right. I slipped into my alter ego Suzumi Yanase and answered the questions according to her personality. And guess what? She got the _Don't Fuck With Me Seme!_ LMAO. That, obviously, means that dear Orio is the _Badass Uke_ kufufufufufufu. Maybe I will actually have her top him…? Oh that would be hilarious! xDDD

(Although I do think that the DFWM/Badass seme/uke stereotype fits Shizaya extraordinarily well. CUE FANGIRL SQUEAL DUE TO UNAVOIDABLE FANGASM 8DDD)

_**Don't Fuck With Me Seme**_

Serious and to the point, and sometimes bordering on the sadistic, it takes a special breed of uke to satisfy your needs. You tend to be anti-social with little patience for most people. You need someone to challenge you and push you to your limits, and then be able to take your intense reactions, which possibly involves rope and sensual torture. This is what makes the Badass Uke the yin for your yang, as you're the only one able to put them in line and satisfy each other.

Most compatible with: Badass Uke

Least compatible with: Dramatic Uke, Innocent Uke, Clueless Uke

_**Badass Uke**_

Other uke admire you, some seme fear you. Despite your sometimes flaming appearance, you can even fool other people into thinking you are seme with your mischievous, manipulative attitude, but when push comes to shove, your true submissive nature emerges. It takes a seme with enough intensity to challenge you and keep you satisfied, and your perfect match, the Don't Fuck With Me Seme, knows that all that naughty teasing just means you want the punishment.

Most compatible with: Don't Fuck With Me Seme, Chibi Seme

Least compatible with: Sadistic Seme, Romantic Seme

8'D

**What was your result for the Seme-Uke Quiz?**

Lol I got the Chibi Seme. You can see more info on it in my profile for . Personally, I think it fits me quite well. Did I mention I also got the Sadistic Seme when I took it a second time? *evil grin*

_**Sadistic Seme**_

It takes a special kind of uke to appreciate the punishment you dish out. Making them beg for mercy is what you're all about. You give your uke the gift of pain, and the louder their moans are, the more satisfied with the relationship you'll be. It's no fun if they don't struggle, and struggle and torture is what the Dramatic Uke, your perfect match, lives for.

Most compatible with: Dramatic Uke

Least compatible with:Everyone else

Lmao…oxymoron ftw. I almost feel sorry for you guys. Almost. C:

**Why are most of your A/Ns so damn **_**long**_**?**

I'm generally the quiet type IRL and spend most of my time thinking. All of the shit I write here is barely a thousandth of the mess that prowls in my cerebellum, trust me – merely the slightly important shit that I feel like spewing and think that you would benefit from, even if it's just a laugh. You know what Izaya always says – a laugh a day keeps the doctor away! (Although that kind of fails what with Shinra and all pfft xD) Just be grateful I don't force you to read all of it. You should see all of the Code Geass SuzaLuluSchneiz orgies that mess all over my mind all day long…Not that I'm complaining. /brofist

Maybe one of these days I should write one? Or maybe a Shizaya piece? What do you guys think?

**When will Shizuo appear again? It's been so long without his RAWRness!**

Soon, my precious. Very soon. CB

**Why did you forget the next question you were supposed to type here in place of this one?**

Chocolate cookies rot the brain. 8|

**Anyway, thanks for reading and please review! They make me write faster! :D**


	10. Forty, Forty

**Title:** Snowblind

**Author:** DeadSummerXx

**Characters/Pairing:** Izaya Orihara & OC

**Type:** Continuous (Incomplete)

**Genre:** Romance/General/Humor

**Word Count:** 4,591

**Rating:** M (Contains content suitable for mature teens and older)

**Disclaimer:** Durarara! belongs to its respective owners.

**Summary:** In a trial of insanity and hope, the fine line between truth and lies is nonexistent, and even the smallest of errors can blind you into believing the unbelievable. But then again, of what worth is a game when one does not have a worthy opponent?

**Created on:** 9/10/10

**Completed on:** 9/19/10

**Chapter Last Revised on:** 9/19/10

**A/N:** So this story actually has a plot? Holy shit I'd never have guessed!

Ehehe…Yeah stuff has started to pick up, as you can see. FINALLY at chapter ten. The big One-O! As such, I feel that this is a milestone and that I should give you guys an update on this story's current stats at this very moment. 8D

**Views:** 2,605

**Words:** 66,973

**Chapters:** 10

**Reviews:** 34

**Favorites:** 15

**Subscriptions:** 27

**Time Taken to Write Thus Far:** 10 Weeks (roughly three months)

As of now, this story is the second most popular one under the search _OC – Durarara!_ after _The Definition of Life _by aKiy0z with 55 reviews, 18 chapters, and 25,960 words. I seriously can't express how much I love you guys! Hopefully you all will keep cheering me on as _Snowblind _progresses!

Ugh…Although this chapter is probably not up to par like usual. School will be the death of me, I swear.

**(ALGEBRA 2) + A = DEATH; WHEN A = ASSHOLE TEACHER**

Ahem. Just FYI, I was sick on Friday (still am, actually) and therefore missed school. With my extra free time, I went back and rewrote some stuff in previous chapters. No events were changed, don't worry; I merely corrected some spelling/grammar mistakes and/or rephrased a couple of things to make them sound better. Chapter five was really bugging me, so I just said what the hell and did all of them while I was at it. C:

* * *

_Chapter Ten_

_**Forty, Forty**_

* * *

It was subtle at first, almost completely unnoticeable to the untrained eye. It started with small, contemplative looks in the middle of one of our conversations (read: one-sided pissing contests), and then morphed into total silences and cold shoulders, before becoming outright absences. I wasn't complaining, of course. Any break from Orihara I could get was a miracle. That was the thing, though. From what I could tell, he was a pretty interactive up-in-your-face kind of person. His recently distant personality – toward me, at least; I hadn't really seen him interact with anyone else – was just so unusual that it was seriously freaking me out. It was too early in The Game to be losing interest in me (or so I thought, but I could never really tell with him), so it couldn't have been that. _What the hell was he planning this time?_ I couldn't help but think.

And then I started getting the calls.

It seemed that he was somehow trying to make up for his distance (like he even needed to) by phoning and/or texting me at least five times a day. Right when I got up in the morning, just before I left, lunch time, as soon as school got out, and sometime before I went to bed. Usually it was more than that, like several billion texts both before and after dinner, which was especially annoying when I was at any of my friends' houses or out with them. They were just stupid little perverted comments most of the time, or just dropping into say a twisted hello or a sick sweet dreams, often with some sort of cutsie heart or something other flamingly gay.* As much as I hated to admit it, it was like he was acting like my…

…_Boyfriend._

It was when I nearly spat out my coffee all over Anri-san at the realization that I decided it needed to _stop_.

I was in the middle of playing videogames on Sunday afternoon, four days after Kida had found out about The Game, with said blond and Mikado-san at the smaller boy's apartment when I got Orihara's next message. It was more like I was watching Blondie get his ass hilariously royally pwned in a game of Sengoku Basara 3 by a smug Mikado-san, actually. Neither teen noticed when my cell jingled merrily, too absorbed in their game to probably even care if they had as I flipped open my phone.

_**Sent by **_**Izaya Orihara **_**at 2:17pm**_

_How is my little tsundere today~? _ヽ(´ω`)/

I scowled, typing my reply angrily. Damn his carefree attitude.

_**Sent by**_** Suzumi Yanase **_**at 2:17pm**_

_Irritated because she needs to speak with you. _:|

_**Sent by **_**Izaya Orihara **_**at 2:18pm**_

_Ohohoho, does she now? Whatever for?_

_**Sent by **_**Suzumi Yanase **_**at 2:18pm**_

_She's simply curious why the hell you've been unusually ignoring her. _

_**Sent by **_**Suzumi Yanase **_**at 2:18pm**_

_Not that she's complaining._

_**Sent by **_**Izaya Orihara **_**at 2:18pm**_

_Aww, is poor Suzu-chan feeling neglected? Tell her not to worry; Iza-chii will make it all better~_

_**Sent by **_**Suzumi Yanase **_**at 2:18pm**_

_Go to hell._

I narrowed my eyes, frustrated. This wasn't going how I wanted it to at all.

_**Sent by **_**Izaya Orihara **_**at 2:19pm**_

_Been there, done that – unless she wants to come with, of course. I think we'd have tons of fun moaning and screaming louder in the throes of fiery passion than all of the other damned souls, don't you?_

_**Sent by **_**Suzumi Yanase **_**at 2:19**_

_That's…ew. No. Just no._

I could practically see him laughing wildly in his stupid office chair. Oh, how I wanted to wring his pale, scrawny neck…

_**Sent by **_**Izaya Orihara **_**at 2:19pm**_

_Psh, you know you want this. ;}_

As much as I hated to admit it, I did. But that was why it was so wrong in the first place, only made even worse by the fact that he was just toying with my haywire hormones. Blushing furiously, I tried to articulate a reply that wouldn't give me away in time for it to fail. But knowing him, he probably already knew. Ugh. How I hated being a teenager sometimes.

_**Sent by **_**Suzumi Yanase **_**at 2:20pm**_

_Yeah, if by want you mean effectively castrate. e_e_

_**Sent by **_**Izaya Orihara **_**at 2:20pm**_

_I'm flattered that you would steal my manhood just to keep for yourself, Suzu-chan. I would do the same for you~_

I nearly gagged on air. The nerve! Flushing brilliantly, I nearly broke my cell in half as I violently began to retort, only for it to be triumphantly snatched out of my hands by a grinning Kida. I looked up, startled, not even hesitating before dropping down onto the floor and lunging at him. Laughing, he leaned back in time for my outstretched to _just barely _miss the silver chain connected to its black case.

"Give it," I demanded impatiently, trying to worm my way around his other arm that was the only thing holding me back, to no avail. Kida just laughed again, waggling my cell teasingly.

"Nope," he smirked impishly. "Who've you been chatting with, Suzumi-chan? Maybe that upperclassman that's been practically stalking you? What was his name again? Onigara-senpai?"

Spluttering furiously, _knowing what he was doing that blond ditz_, I reached for it again, but he jerked away from my grasp once more. Asshole. From the corner of my eye, I saw Mikado-san smiling exasperatedly as he shut down his Xbox. I nearly shouted at him to _help me now dammit_, but I knew that he would probably just roll his eyes and ignore me in favor of trying to finish his math homework. That, and Kida's gasp of disbelief cut off any train of thought other than _oh shit_ as he peered incredulously up at the messages clearly displayed on the screen of my phone, his wide chocolate eyes pinned particularly on Orihara's last one.

Shaking myself from my frozen stupor, I took his shocked stillness as an opportunity to rescue my phone from his clutches. Kida let the device slip easily from his lax fingers, still too dumfounded to do anything other than stare at me in disbelief as I scrambled back up onto the safety of the couch. I frowned pointedly at him, shaking my head in silent communication that, _no_, I did not reciprocate any of his sentiments, and _no_, I did _not _start the convo.

"What are you two doing?" Apparently Mikado-san had noticed our odd behavior and, like any normal human being, asked what the hell was up. Not literally, of course, but still. He looked back and forth between us curiously, baby blue eyes narrowed in suspicion.

In retrospect, I really should have seen that coming.

* * *

"Nothing!" My voice was higher than I intended it to be, and I nearly winced outwardly. Mikado gave me The Look – you know, the one that told me he knew I was lying. God, how I hated it. Suzumi-chan was going to kill me later, I just _knew _it.

For now, though, she just settled with pinning me a fierce glare and quickly typing something on the keyboard of her cell. I sincerely hoped that it was something along the violent lines of _'fuck off'_, because that was really what Orihara needed to do. Bastard. Soon after the jingling sound of her phone shutting off reached my ears, and I nearly sighed in relief. I had noticed that Suzumi was getting a lot of texts these days, and I had an inkling of who they were from, but to actually see it with my own eyes was just…disturbing. Far, _far_ beyond words.

But not fists, fortunately. The next time I saw him he was going to wish he wasn't even born.

"Whatever, Masaomi," Mikado dismissed, shaking his head like he knew that it was better not to pry. I wish I had his intuition sometimes. "Who wants pizza?"

Suzumi-chan brightened at that, and I nearly chuckled, rising from my position on the floor. She may have been surprisingly well-accustomed to Japanese culture, having grown up around it, and a citizen, but she was still one-hundred percent American regardless. I had the feeling she always would be. I myself couldn't deny that the Italian dish was amazing.

Soon after Mikado ordered via phone, the pizza came to the door – oh how I envied him having a pizzeria just down the block – and we dug in over a local playing of _The Grudge_. Mikado, of course, was reluctant to at first and mostly kept stuffing his face with pillow instead of food, while Suzumi-chan and I just laughed in amusement. Really, the movie was so cheesy it almost wasn't even funny. Almost.

When it ended around four-something, Suzumi excused herself, mumbling something about getting tortured with paper grading by her uncle. I raised a brow, as did Mikado, but we both left it at that.

"Sure you don't want me to walk you home?" I asked with a dazzling wink, ever the gentleman. Mikado rolled his eyes.

"I think I'll be safer without you," she smirked wryly. "Thanks for having me over, Mikado-san. See you two tomorrow."

I pouted dramatically, sobbing about how no one ever loved me, earning a shove in the back from my best friend. Suzumi rolled her eyes, unsurprised. "Whatever you say."

"Just be careful on the streets, alright?" Mikado insisted.

"Yes'sir," she mock-saluted, smiling. I could tell she was being serious all the same.

We shared a last parting look before she left, both of us knowing that the real place she needed to be careful was anywhere near Orihara.

* * *

_Slightly over two weeks later – Monday, May 30, 2011_

"What's your report on?"

I sighed tiredly, cracking my knuckles. Anri-san shot me a look across the table, and I grimaced apologetically at her. I forgot she hated that sound. "Sorry. Uh…Satoshi Kon. You know, the director of _Paprika_.*"

"Right," she replied, nodding before looking back down at her math homework.

I resisted the urge to crack my knuckles again in boredom. I hated writing. Not that I wasn't good at it, but I wasn't particularly skilled either. It just didn't interest me. Kon, though he was one of my favorite celebrities, wasn't terribly exciting to write a book report on. It had to be done by Wednesday though, and I was running out of time. I really needed to stop procrastinating…

Groaning inwardly, I rubbed a hand against my stiff neck and picked up my pencil. Even though Anri-san and I had just gotten dinner from the café across the street from the library not even ten minutes ago, I was already starting to get hungry again. I might as well have just been a teenage guy for all that my black hole of a stomach was worth. Damn.

I was just about to go and go buy some chips from a vending machine when my cell rang loudly. The sack-of-bones librarian glared harshly at me from the reception desk, and I cringed. Whoever the hell was texting me at a time like this better have something good to say. I flipped my phone open, not shocked to find that it was Orihara. I should really get him a specialized ringtone or something. Perhaps the _Jaws_ theme?

_**Sent by **_**Izaya Orihara **_**at 6:03pm**_

_You there, Suzu-chan~? If you are, call me~_

"Is it Izaya-san again?" Anri-san half-whispered without glancing back up at me.

My phone nearly clattered to the tiled floor in my shock. _Did she just—no. She wouldn't say…but she did…and I…and I _what_?_

"Pardon?" I finally choked out.

Anri-san gave me a knowing look. "Please, Suzumi-san," she said, exasperated. "You and Kida-kun don't hide it as well as you think you do. I saw your reactions the day you punched him, and I overheard the two of you talking about it last week. I also checked your contacts."

"You _what?"_ I whisper-yelled, eyebrows feeling like they were raised to my hairline.

"Do you remember on Friday when I stayed inside the locker room during Gym after you left? I did it then, but only because I was concerned. I don't know Izaya-san personally, but enough to know he isn't the best of people to be hanging around."

"Why didn't you tell me you knew?" I demanded incredulously.

"I just did," she pointed out. Grudgingly, I inwardly grumbled a _touché._ "Besides," she smiled shyly, "I trust that you know what you're doing. That's why I won't ask why you willingly have a relationship with him, whatever it is."

I frowned at her taking it so well, thinking back to Kida. "I…I wouldn't call it _willing_, per se," I corrected awkwardly, "but I'm glad to know you're the only one who…does."

She nodded, chin dipping nearly to her collarbone. "I don't mind if you go and talk to him," she admitted. "Just don't do it here. You might get us both kicked out of the library if you do."

I looked at her incredulously. Was she seriously taking it so well? I mean, sure she was generally calmer and more level-headed than Kida, but still…

Disbelievingly, I stood from my chair and muttered a halfhearted, "I'll be back," as I walked to the back of the library to the restrooms. I checked the bottoms of the stalls to make sure no one was inside the Women's before locking the door behind me. It wouldn't do to have someone walk in on the middle of our conversation, after all. Reluctantly, I selected Orihara's name in my contacts and impatiently waited for him to pick up.

"Suzu-chan! You called!" he sang happily. I almost wished that he was standing beside me so that I could thwack him across the face. Almost.

"No shit, Sherlock," I grouched snidely, settling my hip against the joint-sink counter. "Make it quick. I'm in the middle of writing a book report."

"On who?"

"Satoshi Kon. But I know you didn't request I call you just for that, so answer my question."

"Jeez, nice to talk to you again, too, Ms. Pushy."

"Orihara…" I growled warningly.

He chuckled, but acquiesced to my demand. "I just wanted to apologize."

I nearly slipped on the tiled floor beneath my feet. Okay, what the fuck was up with people surprising the hell out of me today? "Come again?"

"I said I wanted to apologize. We haven't seen each other face-to-face for quite a while, and I want to make it up to you."

"I don't care," I said disinterestedly. Which was a half-lie, but he didn't need to know that.

I could tell he was grinning. "Regardless, I will. Rest assured."

"How the hell can I even rest, _period_, knowing that I'll be seeing your ugly mug again? And your one-sided apology better not include breaking into my house."

"Aww, shucks! Found out before I could even enact my genius plan! How'd you know?" he pouted dejectedly. I could tell it was fake, like usual.

"I cannot _believe…"_ I trailed off halfheartedly, muttering incoherently. This man was going to be the death of me someday. I could _feel _it.

Orihara just laughed again.

* * *

When I got back to the table, Anri-san was still studiously working on her math homework, calculator forgotten at her side. I really envied her sometimes. She didn't look up at me as I settled myself back in my chair, turning off my phone for good measure before pocketing it. I spared her a fleeting glance before going back to my own report, not relishing the idea of spending the next day-and-a-half or so of writing it. That, and Orihara didn't specify exactly what his new surprise apology was going to be. Knowing him for even barely a month, I had the immense twisting feeling in my gut that I wouldn't like it in the least. But he was Orihara, and once he set his mind to something, come hell or high water, he would do whatever he wanted regardless.

Before I knew it, and hour had passed and I was still barely done with a rough draft of two paragraphs on the opening and his childhood, respectively. Anri herself had finished her calculus (I know, right?) homework, along with her science lab sheet, history table, and English* verbs worksheet. I looked at her disparagingly, silently cursing my terrible procrastination issues. The bespectacled girl had finished her the first week the assignment was given out, and on the lore of _Amaterasu* _no less. At the very least I wasn't as bad as Kida, who hadn't even started it yet (I doubted he had even picked something to write about), but even Mikado-san had already completed his.

Anri-san smiled back, clearly amused. "It's your own fault, you know," she said wisely.

"I know," I grumbled, stabbing the corner of my paper with the dull tip of my mechanical pencil. I wished it was Orihara's grinning face. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

The busty girl hummed, gathering her papers together as I mindlessly picked at the shredded paper stuck between the spirals on my notebook. "What're you doing?" I asked, noticing that she was standing and shoving everything into her book bag.

"Going home," she answered easily. "It's past seven, and I really should be getting back. I don't mind if you stay here and finish your report. Just be sure to do it before nine when the library closes." She smiled kindly.

"Oh," I replied numbly, realizing that I'd probably have to finish up at home if that was the case. Shit. "Sure you'll be okay walking home alone?"

"I'll be fine," Anri-san assured, looking at me like she wouldn't be alone in the slightest. I inwardly raised a brow, but didn't press, and merely muttered a tired farewell as she exited the library.

"Lessee…" I murmured in English once she was gone, scanning the paragraph list on the sticky note in my hand. "Intro, check. Childhood, check. Intro to career, not check. Writing, not check. Directing, not check. Animation, not check. Manga, not check. Literature, not check. Final years, not check. Closing, not check." I visibly paled. Fuck.

I_ knew_ I should have picked Ken'ichi Matsuyama.*

* * *

I woke unpleasantly to someone roughly jostling my shoulder. Groaning thickly, I tried shoving their hand away and reluctantly cracking open my bleary eyes. Sharp, bright light accosted my sensitive pupils, and I flinched, covering them feebly.

"Get up," a papery female voice said from somewhere above me. "The library's closing."

My eyes snapped open at that, right into the stern, wrinkled face of the old librarian. She wasn't happy. At all. "Shi—S-sorry," I nearly swore, hurriedly rising from my chair and grabbing my things, not even bothering to organize any of it before unceremoniously stuffing everything into my book bag. "I really didn't mean—"

"It doesn't matter what you meant," she snapped gruffly, waddling away on her fuzzy loafers. I grimaced. "Just don't do it again, or I'll get you suspended."

"Y-yes ma'am," I murmured, doubting she even heard me as I hightailed it out of there. Had I seriously just fallen asleep? A vague, fuzzy recollection of everything before somewhere around the gaping black hole of eight o'clock to now told me that, yes, dumbass, I did.

I cursed fluently, digging my phone from my blazer pocket with one hand while the other rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and turned it on. Eleven missed calls, all from Toshiyuki. I was so screwed. I quickly speed-dialed his number, and he picked up almost immediately.

"Suzumi?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yeah, it's me. I accidentally fell asleep at the library and my phone was off. Sorry." I bit my lip.

He sighed tiredly, the heavy sound crackling awkwardly in my earpiece. "Don't worry me like that," he scolded firmly, although I could tell he was beyond relieved. "I thought someone had taken you."

_Not this time_, I said silently. "No, I'm fine. I'm on my way home. I should be there in about ten or fifteen minutes."

"Do you want me to come pick you up?"

"I'll be okay, Toshiyuki-oji-san. It's just over a five minute walk to the suburbs, and I'll be in the clear once I get there. I'll just keep my head down. I'll be okay," I repeated, cursing my stupidity. I hadn't even gotten another paragraph of my report done. Ergh.

"If you insist…" he sighed again. "Press my number if something happens, though. You don't even have to talk. That'll just be our signal, all right?"

"Got it," I murmured, trekking down the sidewalk, feeling terrible and guilty.

"See you in a few," he said calmly, although I could tell it was a warning.

I smiled at his concern. "Definitely." And then he hung up.

Pocketing my phone, I shook my head at my utter idiocy as I rounded a corner to the next stoplight and waited for the _walk_ sign to flicker on. How much more stupid could I get? What if he had called the police or something? Everyone else would have gotten worried sick for nothing. I frowned, rubbing my throbbing temples, stomach growling. Huh. I never did go get that bag of chips…

"A high school girl shouldn't be out so late on her own," an unusually familiar, deep voice drawled from behind me.

I whipped around, prepared to fight if necessary, only to come face-to-face – er, well –collarbone – with the person I least expected.

"H-Heiwajima-san?" I nearly spluttered, trying not to gape. He inclined his head down at me – damn ridiculous height differences – and I quickly collected myself.

"Yanase-san," he returned, taking a long drag from his smoke. "What are you doing out so late?"

"Er…schoolwork," I murmured as I motioned to my book bag, still very awkward, and not only from the glances the two of us were getting from the passersby surrounding us. "Just left the library."

"Ah," he nodded.

"And you?" I asked, somewhat hesitant.

"Heading back to my apartment. Just got off work."

"Right," I swallowed, knowing just what his work was.

"I've been meaning to talk to you for a while now," he admitted, taking another drag.

I blinked up at him, surprised beyond belief. "What about?" I inquired, incredulous.

He opened his mouth to reply, but then the signature telltale _do-re-mi_ melodied from the crosswalk, and the walklight brightened to a nearly cornea-burning neon green. He wasn't able to answer until we crossed the walk due to the loud noise, and I nearly lost him in the crowd as we finally stepped up onto the curb.

He cleared his throat. "Dunno," he finally said, and even then I had to crane my neck to hear him. "Just to talk, I guess."

"Oh." Well, wasn't today definitely full of surprises?

"Where'd you learn to fight?" he asked, shoving his hands deep into his pant pockets. I couldn't help but scowl slightly at the fact they reached my waist. So jealous.

"I didn't really _learn_, per se," I tried to explain, shifting my heavy book strap. "I just…acted on instinct. For the most part it was street fights in Los Angeles, but it really began in New York when a couple of assholes tried to get in my pants and I kicked their asses."

"Somehow I had the feeling that you were American," he said, clearly amused. "Street fights, huh?"

I snorted. "Yeah. Just moved here about a month ago. And I never willingly entered those street fights. I hate violence."

"What a coincidence," he murmured, almost so quiet I couldn't hear. I believed him.

"And you?" I asked, curious as to where on Earth he could have possibly acquired his monstrous strength.

He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. "When I was a kid, my brother did something I told him not to do and I accidentally tried to throw a fridge at him."

I felt my brows rise. "Accidentally?" I echoed. How the hell do you do something like that accidentally? And what was so bad that he tried to crush his brother for it?*

"It was a knee-jerk reaction. I didn't consciously do it, or anything. I was sent to the hospital for it, too. Nearly broke my back."

"I'd imagine," I muttered, perturbed and slightly awed. "How strange…"

"You aren't scared?" he asked, almost disbelieving.

"Should I be?" I countered honestly, but I really didn't think I needed to be.

"…Usually people are," he pointed out. I knew the feeling.

"I'm not most people," I offset frankly, frowning. "Besides," I threw in a smile for good measure, "you seem like a pretty nice guy. When you aren't trying to crush people with refrigerators, that is."

A flash of surprise lit up his face, and then he chuckled. "That's the first time anyone's ever said something like that to me."

"That was the first time I said anything like that to anyone." I had the feeling we'd be getting along really well.

He smirked wryly around the butt of his cigarette, eyes flickering over to the next corner. "This is my stop," he said, and I caught the underlying tone of disappointment in his voice. I felt it, too.

"See you around, Heiwajima-san?" I asked hopefully.

He looked openly astonished for a moment, before grinning and shaking his head as he half-turned away. "It's Shizuo," he corrected, eyes smiling behind the blue tint of his shades. "See you 'round, kid." And then he left, parting with a short wave.

I beamed, feeling happier than I think I ever had since coming to Ikebukuro, which was really saying something. I couldn't quite place why, but I wasn't complaining. Normally I would have kicked someone's ass for calling me a kid, but with Heiwajima-san – _Shizuo_ – it just felt…different. A good kind of different, and one that I didn't mind in the least.

Toshiyuki was typing away at the dining room table when I got back home, locking the door behind me as I slipped off my flats. He looked up from his work, looking slightly miffed at my late homecoming. I winced.

He sighed. "There's some soba and onigiri I saved for you in the fridge."

"Thanks," I muttered, guilt coming back full-force. I had pretty much forgotten about it in my short chat with Hei – _Shizuo_, but now that I was away from him I felt even stupider than before. "I'll be down in a few. Just going to drop off my bag and change."

He didn't reply, so I left it at that and trudged upstairs, stomach growling hungrily. Pushing open the door to my room with my foot, I rolled my neck tiredly and tossed my book bag on the floor next to my hamper. I was about to unbutton my blazer before flicking on the lights when something caught my eye out of the corner of my peripheral vision. I froze instantly, fingertips hovering in stiff flight.

The harsh, moonlit outline of Izaya Orihara met my gaze, narrowed scarlet eyes glittering severely in the dark light as he leaned against the open window on the other side of the room. His right hand was clenched tightly at his side, the other shoved deep into his pocket where the fabric of it rustled as he fingered his flick blade. His mouth was pressed into a thin, violent line as he stared me down. I had never seen anyone look so dangerous.

"What were you doing with Shizuo, Suzumi?"

* * *

*When I used _gay_ there, I meant no offense to the homosexual community or any homosexual in particular. I myself am bisexual, so I know fully well how derogatory sexual orientation-centered comments can make a person feel. I just want you guys to know that I wasn't trying to be mean or homophobic or anything – nor was Suzumi for that matter (save for at Iza-chii, even though he couldn't hear her thoughts, simply because she wants to bring down his galaxy-sized ego). She's pretty mellow and accepting to practically everyone, and only gets angered if someone does something to her personally. Izaya is a prime example of this. xD

*_Paprika _is an amazing sci-fi film. I strongly suggest you guys check it out.

*In Japan, English class is mandatory for all students in high school. I'm not sure about younger grades, but definitely for upperclassmen. I wish they had something like that in the US…

*_Amaterasu _is the Shinto goddess of the sun. Honestly, she's one of my favorite Japanese deities besides Tsukuyomi, the god of the moon. I just thought she fit Anri so well, what with Saika and all.

*He plays _L_ from the Death Note live-action films. I wrote a paper on him once, and it was so easy and short it was unbelievable. I got an A on it, too. Poor, poor Suzumi. xD

*Lmao, the value of pudding. Cx

**Why did you title this chapter **_**Forty, Forty?**_

Well, firstly because forty is a multiple of ten, and this chapter is the big One-O. Secondly, because _Forty, Forty _is like a combination of the games _Tag _and _Hide-and-Seek_, where a person is 'it' if they're spied, or 'sought'. This ties into this chapter because both Shizuo and Izaya sought out Suzumi, and because Izaya 'tagged' her.

**Wait, what? Anri knows? Isn't that a **_**little**_** too soon?**

Um, no, not really. Remember two-week timeskip? Plus Anri is just really observant and smart on her own, and with the help of Saika even more so. Her knowledge will play in later, don't worry. I just feel bad for poor Mikado-chan, being left out of the loop and all.

…Or is he? ;D

**Why is **_**Snowblind **_**rated M when nothing like that has really happened?**

For later chapters. I won't say exactly what is going to happen, but there'll be quite a bit of gore, violence, angst, and language. I'm undecided about explicitly sexual content, as it isn't really necessary to the plotline. Some of you, however, would like to see it fully written. It's all up to you guys. I'll take a vote in my profile when that time comes, so look out for it, mmkay?

**How many chapters will this story have?**

I'm really not sure. When I started _Snowblind_, I expected all that's happened so far to be mushed into only four chapters. Obviously it didn't happen that way, so I don't have an exact number. Right now I can only guess that it'll be thirty chapters long at minimum, and maybe fifty or more at max. Crazy, I know, but that's a fairly realistic educated guess for what I have planned. It just really depends on what I link the events with. There are only four major ones left on my list, so who knows?

**Why is Izaya-chii so naughty in this fic?**

Honestly? I have no clue. It's just how his voice sounds in my head. I didn't originally intend for him to be like that. In all actuality, he was more dangerous/playful and less outrageously pedophilic. But I still like him lol, and from what I hear, you guys do too~ ;D

**What is your favorite writing quote?**

"_Criticism is like broccoli. It looks bad, tastes bad, and goes down like molasses, but it's good for you." – Anon_

In all actuality, broccoli is my favorite veggie. C:

As always, thank you all so much for reading this fic and supporting it! Reviews are what urge me to keep writing, and I love hearing from you guys, so…*winkwink* *nudgenugde*


	11. Sleeping Lions

**Title:** Snowblind

**Author:** DeadSummerXx

**Characters/Pairing:** Izaya Orihara & OC

**Type:** Continuous (Incomplete)

**Genre:** Romance/General/Humor

**Word Count:** 4,236

**Rating:** M (Contains content suitable for mature teens and older)

**Disclaimer:** Durarara! belongs to its respective owners.

**Summary:** In a trial of insanity and hope, the fine line between truth and lies is nonexistent, and even the smallest of errors can blind you into believing the unbelievable. But then again, of what worth is a game when one does not have a worthy opponent?

**Created on:** 10/2/10

**Completed on:** 10/3/10

**Chapter Last Revised on:** 10/3/10

**A/N:** I'm so, so sorry this is late, folks. I was out of town the previous weekend (which is why I wasn't able to reply to most of ch10's reviews) and broke my back to get it finished up on Sunday, but guess what? **MY COMPUTER CRASHED. JUST. BEFORE. I POSTED IT. **

**WHATTTT.**

Yes. I lost everything. Half a decade's worth of shit, including **all** of my various books, plot ideas, and my original _Snowblind _files—including chapter ten, along with my Finnish report that was due that Monday. I would have bent over backwards to retype this chapter on Monday, but I spent it and Tuesday retyping my report. I wasn't able to get my comp fixed until Wednesday, and I would have typed it back up then, but I had to finish my science project (guh, kill me now) and write a history essay for the next two or so days. Unfortunately, _Snowblind_ is third on my list after family/friends and school, so I wasn't able to redo it until Saturday. I still have a lot of homework this weekend, though, so I wasn't able to get it one-hundred percent done until like five minutes ago. Guh. Anyway, it's here now, so enjoy and please review.

Oh! And in brighter news, I posted up a _User's Guide and Manual_ humor!ficlet for Suzumi on last Sunday just because I couldn't help myself. Also, my beloved waifu Ash drew me Suzumi as her anniversary present to me. It'll be three years on the third of October. *heart*

You can see the link to her drawing in the LOG section in my profile~

I've in addition given _Snowblind_ an official theme song. Go look up _Australia_ by The Shins. It's really cute and morbidly funny. And have you guys heard of LJ? (Lul, wtf kind of question is that?) Well, I started a blog there for shits and giggles. Mostly the crap I post there will be Hetalia plotbunnies and/or fills, so just FYI. If I get enough people pestering me about it I might post _Snowblind _up there. Like with everything else, link to my LJ is in my profile.

And finally, thank all of you so much who reviewed/supported last chapter! I'm sorry I couldn't get back to all of you, but I definitely will this time! :D

* * *

_Chapter Eleven_

_**Sleeping Lions

* * *

**_

"What were you doing with Shizuo, Suzumi?" The words hissed out of my mouth of their own accord, like venom on my tongue. I hated having to say them.

In the silhouette of the doorway, Suzumi visibly paled. She quickly straightened herself, however, shutting the door behind her and flicking on the lights. I still had to inwardly applaud her for her caution despite my ire. "What's it to you? I can be around people I want to be around," she defended angrily, overcoming her sudden shock at having seen me after so long. "The hell are you, my mother?"

"Not when it's Shizuo," I ground out, completely ignoring her last comment. It wasn't worth answering anyway.

"Why the fuck not? Are you _jealous _or something?"

Yes, I wanted to shout. I had been on my way here to surprise Suzumi with a visit, and imagine my shock when I had seen her walking with _him_, looking all happy and awkward. The only person allowed to evoke such strong emotional responses from her was _me_. And her friends and family, on occasion. But still mostly me. _Not _Shizuo Heiwajima, _not _that blubbering, self-control-less idiotic _imbecile _who didn't even know how to do it properly.

Taking my bothered silence as a yes, she scoffed and dropped her bag to the floor. "_You're _the one who's been avoiding the hell out of me for the past three weeks. You don't have anyone else to blame for that but yourself."

I nearly snarled in frustration. Couldn't she see how I had sacrificed myself for her and crushed the urge to see her every waking or otherwise moment of her life just so that Namie wouldn't get even more suspicious than she already was? And _this _was how she repaid me? No, she didn't, _couldn't_, because that's what I wanted her to do, lest she go out looking for the older woman herself. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her, so long as I was there – literally or otherwise – to protect her. I just hadn't thought that Shizuo would confront her in a million years, messing up my plans yet again. Damn it all, I was going to _kill him._

I didn't realize that I had said the last bit aloud and was getting ready to hoist myself back outside until Suzumi bolted across the room and shut the window, barely missing my hand. She had to reach around me to do so, and when I turned to pin her with a hard stare and some biting words, the proximity of our bodies caught me off-guard. She didn't seem to notice, clutching my wrist in one of her hands while the other held down the latch on the windowsill.

"No, you won't," she said stubbornly. "Quit being such an incorrigible jackass. He didn't do anything. I don't see why you hate him so much—"

"He has no self-control," I interjected furiously, voice clipped and cold. "He's just a bumbling idiot. Do you have _any_ idea what would happen if he lost himself around you and you got in his way? _Do_ you?"

She looked taken aback for a few moments, glittering teal eyes wide with disbelief before her expression hardened. "That's a risk I'm willing to take," she bit out.

"For what?" I scowled. "What the hell about _him_ is so worth risking your _life_ for—"

"_Everything_," she seethed. "I've lived almost my entire life in solitude. I never even had a real friend until I met Mikado-san and Kida. That's sixteen years of near-social isolation. I thought it was just pure luck, and even then that it was nothing serious. Then I met Anri-san too, and I realized that there's worth in having people around, and Shizuo is one of those people. I'm not surprised you don't understand that. I doubt you've had anyone – _anyone_ – and solely out of choice. Maybe _you_ can work alone, but I _can't_. Shizuo and I share a similar past, and I can tell he's lonely, too." Frustration was simmering in her furrowed brows. "I don't care if you say I can't see him, because I will regardless. You _don't_ control me. But I need you to at least understand this."

And I did. What she said was true. All of it. But that still didn't make me like it. I pursed my lips flatly, pinning her with a cold glare. This wasn't how I had envisioned our first meeting in over two weeks to pan out. We had fought – bantered, really – millions of times before, but it was nothing serious like this. She was always the one frazzled and half-out of her wits, and even then it was more of a joke than anything else. Not me. But this time was different.

All because of that stupid, _stupid_ moron of a blond.

"I'm still going to kill him," I pointed out flatly, but it was halfhearted. Anger still seethed in my veins, but it was dulled by the pleading look that Suzumi was aiming at me with her large eyes. Such a disgustingly human emotion. If I had seen it on anyone else I would have laughed and kicked them while they were down. But not this woman – _girl_. It was so easy to forget she was so young, still. What was it about this girl – this hardly special girl – that made me so human? But that was a lie. She was special in so many ways. So, so many ways.

"No you won't," Suzu-chan retorted quietly, calmly. She was coming back to herself, too, it seemed.

"Not tonight," I bargained.

"Not ever," she countered, sternly this time as she squeezed my wrist sharply for added effect. Unwittingly, I smirked. I wanted to stay angry, oh did I. But that was the thing about Suzumi that never failed. She always somehow managed to make me want to be playful and mischievous around her, somehow. She frowned in turn. "I swear you have mood swings like a pregnant woman."

"Is that an offer, Suzu-chan?" I winked. I couldn't help it, really. It was too good of a chance to pass up.

Predictably, she flushed a brilliant red and drew away from me quickly, looking absolutely scandalized. "N-no!" she nearly shouted, only keeping her voice down for her uncle's sake.

I quietly barked out a laugh, and it was almost like our previous argument had never happened. Almost. Suzu-chan still seemed rather awkward and miffed, and I was still plotting Shizu-chan's painful, agonizing demise, but for a moment it seemed as though the past three weeks were actually spent in each other's company, like they should have been.

"Why are you here, anyway?" she asked quietly after a moment of silence, glancing at me through the dark fringe of her bangs.

"I came to see you."

"Obviously." She rolled her eyes. "Just please don't tell me that this is your unneeded apology."

I smirked. "Then I'd be lying."

She sighed tiredly, flopping down onto her bed in a sitting position to rub at her neck. "I should have expected that."

"M-hm," I grinned, sauntering over to the bed and sidling up to her, the mattress groaning quietly under our combined weight. She really should have.

"Oh no you _don't_," she warned, aiming me a pointed glare and scooting away from me toward the door.

I leered delightedly, taking especial enjoyment in her flustered cheeks as I slid over to her again, even closer this time. Oh, how I had missed that _expression…! _She scowled, shifting to move even farther away and off the bed. I caught her before she could do so, however, pressing her side into my chest. She tried to push me away, blushing brilliantly and spluttering muffled obscenities.

"D-damn it, _quit _that—"

"I really missed you, y'know," I murmured into her temple, voice happy and impish as my thumb traced random designs across her hips. I could feel her shiver unwittingly and still her movements of escape at my touch on that sensitive part of her body, and grinned with masculine pride.

"I'm sure you did," she muttered disparagingly into my collar, warm hand on my chest above my heart. I had the feeling it was there just to make sure I was actually real.

"Aw, c'mon. Admit it. You missed me too."

"No I didn't," she denied petulantly for the sake of denial, fist clenching in my shirt warningly. I could tell she was lying.

"Yes you did," I pointed out, pulling back slightly to peck her on the forehead with my lips.

"_Did not_," she snarled quietly.

I laughed. How childish could she get? Well, two could play at that game. "Did too."

"Did _not_."

"Did too."

"Did _not_."

"Did too."

"Did _not_."

"Did _not."_

"Did too."

"A-ha!" I smirked victoriously, relishing in Suzu-chan's absolutely outraged face as she backtracked over her words.

"Y-you _tricked _me!" she whisper-yelled, flushing brilliantly as she punched me in the arm for good measure.

I covered my wince with a grin. "Nah. Me tricking you was just you tricking yourself."

"No – wait, _what_?"

"What?" I mocked, earning a scowl.

"You're such a bastard," she groaned, burying her head in my collarbone.

"It's why you love me," I purred, allowing my fingers to slip teasingly underneath her blazer and dress shirt.

She squeaked, reeling backward and onto the carpeted floor with a loud _thud_ – I had the feeling she would have shrieked if not for her uncle – and unfortunately bringing me down with her. My knees landed on either side of her waist, and we both went rigid at the sound, absolutely still and straining our ears for any noise of her uncle coming to see what had made it. A muffled cough from somewhere downstairs was all that we received, and below me Suzumi let out a long, shuddering breath she had most likely been holding.

I relaxed considerably, too. While I was never one to follow much of any rule code, I most certainly didn't want to be caught in this position and labeled as a sex offender (which I technically was, but still) by any means. Bad for business. That, and Namie would have my head for hiding Suzu-chan. Literally or figuratively, I wasn't completely sure. Either way it'd be a thorn in my side.

"That was close," she sighed, pushing her hand up against my shoulder. "Off."

"Nope," I denied her happily. "I haven't given you my apology yet."

She tensed, raising a brow. "Whatever it is, I don't want it. Now get the hell off of me."

"You're such a downer, Suzu-chan," I fake-pouted, clenching my calves around her thighs as she tried to wriggle out from under me.

"And you're an asshole," she snapped. "Seriously, get off. I'm not in the mood."

"You're never in the mood," I pointed out flatly.

"That should _really_ tell you something," she glowered.

"Unfortunately for you, it doesn't," I lied, grinning as I shoved my hand in my pocket to fish around. "Now hold still."

"Like hell I'll—"

I cut her off with a sharp finger flick to the forehead, taking her dazed and pained moment of confusion to quickly slip my 'apology' over her head and around her neck. She swatted my hands away irritably before turning the game piece hung around her neck in her hands with incredulous, wide eyes.

"A _promoted pawn_ shogi piece? What the fuck?" she spluttered, immediately recognizing the telltale _to_ hiragana inscribed with black ink in the lacquered wood. A small hole was punctured through the top of it where a thin black string threaded through it and around her neck.

I smirked. "Just a little reminder of this milestone in our relationship. It's been about a month since we met, after all."

She paused disbelievingly for a moment, gaping like a fish out of water before realization slowly dawned and her expression was quickly overtaken by one of irritation. "You think I'm a _pawn?_ A _pawn?_"

"A _promoted _pawn," I corrected blithely, grinning as I basked in the amusement of her reaction. In all actuality, I hadn't wanted to apologize at all – not really, anyway, merely to see her response.

"Y–you—_you_…!" Suzu-chan thumped me on the shoulder for lack of anything better to say, clearly frustrated. I laughed quietly, catching her clenched fist in mine to still her movements and thread my fingers through her own. She was just too much sometimes. Too vivacious—too alive—too expressive—too _something._ It was why I was so drawn to her, why she was such an important piece in the game that lay ahead, why I put so much more effort into toying with her more than anyone else.

And I couldn't help but smirk victoriously when I saw her carefully tuck my gift away in her nightstand through the window after I left, too.

* * *

"I don't think this is such a good idea…"

"Oh, come on, Mikado! Live a little, will ya?" Kida grinned, slapping the flustered teen on the back and causing him to slightly stumble. Oblivious, the blond continued to drag the brunette and me along by the shirtsleeves, too wrapped up in his vision of an "epically wonderfabulous evening out on the equally spamazing and brilliantastic Ikebukuro streets" to bother with our discomfort.

To be honest, I had never guessed in a million years that Kida would like _spam_, of all things, let alone convert it into a contracted pseudoword like _spamazing_.

"I agree with Mikado-san," I cut in tersely, tugging on my sleeve in his grip, to no avail.

"Not you too, Suzu-chan!" he whined petulantly, still not letting up on his surprisingly firm hold. Damn it, I really wished Anri-san was here to back me up…

"Kida, we can't just spend an evening out in the town antagonizing my fellow kin," I growled, only suppressing the severe urge to smack him upside the head for Mikado-san's sake. I could think of a million more productive things I could be doing right then, like finishing that damned report that had landed me in the doghouse last night. Or eating a sandwich.

(Preferably the latter. How many hours had it been since lunch? Two, four? Something like that…)

"Of course we can!" he exclaimed, beaming like it was the most brilliant idea in the world – which, by the way, it wasn't. "Er, well, Mikado and I can, but, you know, if you wanna try your hand at it it'd be _really_ _hot_—"

"_Kida—_" I began to threaten, only to be cut off as high-pitched laughter rang through the air.

Kida forgot me completely, perking up in an almost-doglike manner as a brilliant, eager grin spread across his face. The laughter was undoubtedly female, and he let go of mine and Mikado's hands in favor of bounding a short ways up the street toward the alley where it had come from. He skidded to an abrupt, shocked halt when he reached the corner mouth of it, though, and Mikado and I quickly hurried over to him to see what was wrong. In all of my time knowing him, I had never seen nor heard _anything_ that could stop Masaomi Kida from hitting on a girl once he decided to do so.

"Masaomi, what—" Mikado-san started, voice catching in his throat when he finally saw what was going on. I, too, stopped dead in my tracks at the sight that greeted me.

Just a few meters down the alley was Anri-san, only she wasn't alone. The laughter we had heard before had come from the three girls cornering her from all sides, while a taller and slightly older man with a terrible dye job backed them up. They were too far away for me to properly make out the words they were saying, but I'd had a lot of experience with bullying and antagonism and I knew that what they were saying wasn't good. That, and Anri-san was just staring down at her shoes demurely, doing nothing but flinching when one of the girls reached out to shove her in the shoulder.

And that was not cool. At all.

"Those stupid broads," I hissed, clenching my hands into tight fists.

"Shouldn't we do something?" Mikado-san asked timidly from beside me.

I flashed him a hard sideways glance. What the fuck kind of a question was that? "If you two won't, I _will_."

Beside me, Kida nodded curtly before sending a sly, foxlike grin Mikado-san's way. "I agree, but I think Mikado would prefer to save his girlfriend himself. Don't you, Suzumi-chan?"

"S-she's not my girlfriend!" Mikado-san squeaked, obviously nervous and very much in denial. I inwardly rolled my eyes. She may not be, but it was obvious to everyone and their mother who bothered to even look at the two of them for even one second that he _wanted_ her to be, and the bright flush heating his face like a tomato only made it even more apparent.

I knew where Kida was going with this, but I supposed it wouldn't hurt. If things got out of hand he and I could always step in and deal with things. Mikado had been pining after Anri-san who knows how long before I came to Ikebukuro, and it was painfully obvious he liked her. I wasn't sure about Anri-san herself, but I supposed I could let it slip momentarily for the sake of my friends, just this once.

I sent Kida a reluctant nod of approval, and his eyes lit up like a light bulb before he literally _threw_ Mikado-san down the alleyway, who skidded on his feet the whole way before stumbling to a jerky halt right in between Anri-san and her assaulters. He froze, locking up like a dry piece of clay, before one of the girls said something snarky and obnoxious to him. He bolted upright, probably saying something along the lines of "stop bullying Anri-san." Despite his uneasiness and jittery nerves, I could see the determination in his eyes. Behind him, Anri-san seemed genuinely surprised and slightly grateful, clutching her book bag to her chest. I smiled slightly at the sight.

Kida raised his hand for a high-five, and I quickly reciprocated, locking our hands together by threading my fingers through his. The blond had spoken to me before about getting the two quiet teens together with his _Operation: Get Mikado and Anri Together Forevah!_ (OGMATF!), but I had never really thought he would go through with it. Obviously, I had underestimated him. All the same, I was glad to be apart of it. The three of them had done so much already by just being my friends; this was the least I could do to start paying them back.

But then the older man with the shitty dye job stepped up to Mikado-san, shoving him roughly in the shoulder and saying something most likely stupid that wouldn't put his money where his mouth was. I was between them in a flash, Kida completely forgotten as I clenched the thug's wrist in my white-knuckled grip, bringing his ugly face down to my level with a choking hand on his collar.

His eyes widened in surprise at my speed behind his shades, and Mikado-san and Anri-san let out equally surprised murmurs of my name. The three broads stumbled for a second in their heels, before quickly straightening and pointing a glare my way. "_Another_ worm?" one of them spat. I don't remember which one, but I ignored all three of them either way in favor of pulling my lips back into a snarl to match the death look the thug at my mercy was giving me.

"_No one_ hurts my friends and gets away with it," I growled menacingly.

The thug looked like he wanted to laugh. "'N what're _you_ gonna do 'bout it, huh, _yariman?*_

I felt a grin pulling at the corners of my lips. Decking this guy's face in would be the most fun I'd had in weeks. "Anything and everything, _yarichin_."

"Aw, Suzu-chan. You really need to learn to not get so riled up easily."

I whipped my head around at the familiar voice, just as surprised as the others when I was – _predictably_ – met with the visage of Izaya Orihara, who was leaning in the shade of another alleyway that branched of further down, merely two or so yards away. I scowled darkly at him, overcoming my slight shock in the face of his shit-eating grin. It had only been a day or so since I had last seen him after our argument, but I was still unused to him actually _being_ in my presence since his two-week absence. I knew I would have to get used to him again soon, though, otherwise my life would be even more hellish with him around than it already was.

"Don't call me that," I bristled. "What's it to you, anyway? Don't you have some kids to go mentally scar for life?"

"Oh, silly Suzu-chan," he laughed, gesturing his hand dismissively. The ring on his index finger caught in the dying light of the afternoon sun, momentarily flashing a brilliant glare my way. "What do you think I'm doing right now?"

I scowled. Touché. "At least you admitted it."

"Of course." Orihara grinned wolfishly, slipping one hand out of his pockets and rising to his full height to saunter over to us.

A flicker of recognition ran across the thug's face, and he stiffened underneath my hands. "You're the girl who—"

I cut him off with an angry, sharp squeeze to his wrist, and he grunted in pain. Orihara sent him a mock-sympathetic look, smirk still twisting his damnable mouth. "I would just cooperate if I were you. Her punches are not something to be messed with, and I say this from _experience_." I could tell he was having a hard time controlling his laughter, and I made a mental note to deck him senseless sometime in the near future. The bruise on his cheek from when I first punched him had long faded, and he decidedly needed a new one or two or ten.

"Who the hell're you, old man?" one of the girls shouted, pointing at him boorishly. I would have applauded her brazenness if she weren't bullying my friends and wasn't a total brown-haired bitch.

Orihara actually seemed genuinely hurt for a second, before his usual façade went back up and he mock-pouted, "I'm only twenty-one, _shoujoko_.* How rude." Liar. He had to be at _least _twenty-three.

"Old man!" she insisted stupidly, and I couldn't help but smirk at the slight irritated twitch of his eyebrow at the name. I'd have to use that against him later.

Orihara sniffed pompously, sticking his nose in the air and adjusting the invisible wrinkles in his jacket. Kida snorted a few feet away from me – when did he get there? – and I couldn't help but do the same. Way to be mature, you Machiavellian scarlet-eyed bastard, I thought degradingly.

"Well," Orihara harrumphed only for show, before a wide, toothy psychopathic grin ripped his face in two. "I guess it's lucky for you that I don't make a hobby of beating up girls." He sent me an impish look. I scowled, mentally giving him the finger.

Before I could tell him off, the middle girl's purse was lying on the dirty alleyway concrete, its contents spilled everywhere. The only reason I knew it was Orihara that had done it was, obviously, his smug smirk, and the shrill keen of air against metal just before the bag's strap had been sliced apart. Despite myself, I had to admire his speed. I hadn't even seen him move.

"I'll just have to make do with stomping on their cell phones," Orihara finally purred, and in a flash he was doing just that.

And thus two minutes of psychotic phone stompage ensued, accompanied by equally deranged maniacal laughter.

I could feel my eye twitching furiously, jaws just as agape as everyone else's. I knew Orihara was off his rocker, but this…_this_ was taking it up to a whole new level. When he finished with a flourish, it was all I could do to hold back my laughter as he said he got bored with it and it was no longer his hobby. Extra brownie points in my book, despite overall psycho-ness.

The girls, on the other hand, weren't nearly as pleased.

"W-what the hell is up with this guy! H-Hiroshi!"

Like a puppy, the guy – apparently Hiroshi, who I had unconsciously let my grip upon slip in the face of Orihara's episode – was in front of the girls in two seconds flat, macho gangsta/yakuza/whateverthehelldweebhewas façade back up in place. I nearly died of laughter when he screamed various tones of 'yo' and proceeded to grab his crotch, screaming "HEY MAN!"

Wanker.

Orihara merely raised a brow, throat tensing as he stamped down his vocal amusement. He seemed to be doing a better job of holding it back than me, though his voice was laced with mirth as he said, "Hey to you, too, buddy."

And then went on to shank off his ridiculous hair, effectively leaving the thug partially bald and most likely scarred for life.

Personally, I don't think I've ever seen anyone run away as fast as they did in all my sixteen years.

* * *

*****_Yariman _is an _**extremely**_ derogatory insult, with the rough, paled English equivalent of "slut" or "whore", and is never used unless meant. Same for _yarichin_, which is the male counterpart to this word.

*_Shoujoko_ is a contraction of the words _shoujo _(girl) and _ko(domo) _(child), essentially meaning "girlchild". It's used by Izaya here to insult her youth and lack of intelligence

**Why did you title this chapter **_**Sleeping Lions?**_

'Sleeping Lions (also known as Dead Dogs or "Dead Fish") is a children's game. All but one or two players are "lions", and lie down on the floor, eyes closed, as if they were sleeping. The remaining one player ("hunter") moves about the room attempting to encourage the lions to move. The hunters may not touch the lions, but may move close to them, tell jokes, etc. Any person who moves must stand up and join the hunter(s). I titled this chapter as such because Suzumi is curious about Izaya's behavior and is trying to provoke him into saying why he was acting like that, and because, while Izaya is keeping a close eye on her and Namie's actions, he's still trying to manipulate Suzumi into spilling her secrets.

**Nooo, this is so freaking short! What the hell!**

The original was longer, but like I said; my comp crashed and I lost it. I only had two days to type this up while doing shitloads of homework and whatnot, so I didn't have very much time. Chapter twelve will be longer, promise. C:

**Uh, what? I'm confused. What happened to your irrelevant non-canon plotline?**

Oh, I dunno, maybe stuff is starting to pick up pace a bit and I'm actually beginning to incorporate canon events? Whoa! It's about time, right? Right. My writer's creative license is just so epic that I decided to screw with the timeline, so instead of Anri getting bullied right away at the beginning of the series, it's a month or so afterward. :P

…**Why does this sound like a filler chapter, dammit. **

I DIDN'T DO IT ON PURPOSE, I SWEAR. D'8

**As always, thank you so, sosososososo much to everyone who supports this story! My appreciation really can't be put into words. Seriously, you guys. I began writing Snowblind for myself just because the idea wouldn't leave me the fuck alone, but listening to your feedback is what really makes writing this worthwhile. Making someone smile and feel good with my writing is all that I could ever ask for as an author. So really, really. Thank you all, and incredibly so. Please review! C:**


	12. Skipping Stones

**Title:** Snowblind

**Author:** DeadSummerXx

**Characters/Pairing:** Izaya Orihara & OC

**Type:** Continuous (Incomplete)

**Genre:** Romance/General/Humor

**Word Count:** 4,502

**Rating:** M (Contains content suitable for mature teens and older)

**Disclaimer:** Durarara! belongs to its respective owners.

**Summary:** In a trial of insanity and hope, the fine line between truth and lies is nonexistent, and even the smallest of errors can blind one into believing the unbelievable. But then again, of what worth is a game when one does not have a worthy opponent?

**Created on:** 10/5/10

**Completed on:** 10/9/10

**Chapter Last Revised on:** 10/17/10

**A/N:** OKAY OKAY DON'T SHOOT LET ME EXPLAIN I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE. D8

Okay, so – please, just let me tell you what happened before you kill me, alright? Alright. I finished this chapter _on time_ and was editing the last of it on last Sunday evening when my mom asked me to downstairs to the basement to get her some paper stuff that she printed, right? Well the stairs going down there are lacquered wood and we don't have a railing to hold onto and I was wearing socks and my dog started barking out of nowhere (my dad was coming home from the bait store) and scared the shit out of me so I accidentally lost traction on my feet and took a tumble down and ended up breaking my arm and spraining my ankle (they really need to move that weird dresser thing by the end of the stairs, fuck.) So I was rushed to the ER and they pinned my bone back together and gave me a brace for my ankle and fuuuuck my cast _itchesssss._ I'll have to wear it for like three or four more months or some shit like that, too. FML. So as soon as I got home from the hospital on Monday, my mom ordered me to bed and wouldn't let me get out for THREE WHOLE DAYS. Like seriously, what the fuck? The only time I was allowed out was to go out to awkwardly bathe and go to the bathroom. She wouldn't even let me go to the dining room to eat and insisted on bringing it to me. She works from home, too, so she was watching me like a hawk _all the time_, and she didn't let me have my computer, only my iPod because she "wanted me to get some rest for once." Okay, so it's not a big secret that I have insomnia but _still._ I can't upload shit on my iPod anyway so that was seriously fucking useless unless I was replying to PMs and shit. So that leaves us at Thursday, when I was finally permitted my computer (still imprisoned in bed, though) but I decided to just fuck it and leave it until today because I wanted to get back to the regular every Sunday update schedule. Ugh.

So yeah. I'm really sorry about that, guys. I'll try my best to evade whateverthehell poor karma I have when it comes to this story to update on time from now on. I won't make any promises, though, simply because I can't. I'm not even going to try doing that anymore because the last one I made I broke. I'll just do my best and hope it all works out. The only good thing that came out of me being all injured and stuff was missing school and therefore having a shitload of time to myself. And because I was so bored, I wrote chapter thirteen in my notebook. I won't do a double post, though, because I want to be ahead in chapters in case something like this happens again so I can just upload that without any work being done on my part. Also, this week is a two-day school week for me due to AHEM somethingoranother (damn teacher's union) so I have Wednesday through Friday off, and of course the weekend. Which means I'll have all the time in the world to type up chapter fourteen and get thirteen out to you guys.

So. Happy, yes? I most certainly hope so. C:

* * *

_Chapter Twelve_

_**Skipping Stones

* * *

**_

As unusual as it was, over the next week or so Orihara and I had established a sort of pattern – which was really only a pattern because it wasn't a pattern at all. Like with most things having to do with him, it was sporadic and almost completely on his own terms. Orihara dropped by when and wherever he felt like it, whether it be in the mornings before school and/or to wake me up on weekends with his atrocious groping, after school to purposely distract me from my homework – bastard – or at night to keep me awake even more than he normally did. I had learned to always expect him anywhere and everywhere, along with his constant calls/texts that still hadn't let up even though we saw more of each other. If anything, they only became more often than ever before, and I knew it was just to annoy me (and, of course, use up my minutes. Asshole.)

Despite all of this, however, I didn't expect what I should have expected the most.

The pattern breaking.

It was on a weekend, predictably – Friday night, actually. The day started out normally enough, though, I suppose. I woke up reluctantly and trudged to school and the mass of peers who might as well of thought I was a leper, ate an uneventful lunch with a bunch of (ignored) texts from Orihara, finished classes, walked home with Mikado-san, Anri-san, and Kida (the latter of which tried asking me out. _Again_), graded papers with Toshiyuki, finished homework, ate supper, went online to chat, had a snack, took a shower, went to bed. The usual.

And then I got the call.

Of course, it was from Orihara. But that was the odd thing. Normally we communicated through texts because it was easier and much stealthier, so I really hadn't expected he'd actually bother to (probably speed-)dial my number (lazy bastard). And like any sensible and pissed as hell human being who had _just woken up to the fucking jaws theme after a long-ass day of school_, I answered my cell to courteously ask why the hell exactly he called at _two in the fucking morning._

"_The _fuck_ do you want now, asshole?"_

"Your soul," was the frank, amused answer. I could practically see him smirking like the psycho he was in his stupid spinning office chair.

Well.

What else was new?

* * *

"I still can't fucking believe I let you drag me into this…" Suzu-chan muttered irritably to herself beside me, scuffing the heel of her flat against the pavement in anger.

I grinned, slinging and arm around her already tense shoulders and pulling her to me. "_I_ can."

"Don't make me fucking deck you in front of all of these people. _Again_," she hissed, glaring up at me fearlessly. She didn't move her hands from her pockets, though, so I assumed she was too tired to put up a fight and/or to care.

Whatever it was, I took full advantage of it (what can I say? I'm an opportunist) and ran my index finger over her pulse, which quickened considerably under my feather-light touch. "Ah-ah-_ah_, Suzu-chan," I leered, bumping my nose against her temple, at which point I was sure she was sorely tempted to headbutt me. "Language, young lady. A foul mouth is never attractive on a woman."

"Good," she snapped. "'Cause like hell I'm a woman. Sixteen, remember?" She jabbed a thumb at the center of her chest. "Which, by the way, _if you haven't fucking noticed_, means it's technically _illegal for me to be here_."

I raised a brow, chuckling lightly. "Since when have I ever cared about the law when it comes to you?"

She was silent for a moment, teal eyes narrowing as her lips thinned in irritation. "You might not, but _I_ do."

"And yet," I gestured my free hand dramatically with a wide grin, "you agreed to come out with me."

"AKA you blackmailed me with pictures of me sleeping in my undergarments," she snarled, elbowing me in the rib for good measure. "Even if you hadn't and I had actually willingly agreed, like hell I'd have thought you'd drag me out to the goddamn _redlight district_."

"Pfft," I dismissed her glibly, although I was inwardly cackling. "Shows how much you know."

"Along with how much of a manipulative psycho _you _are."

I shrugged, not denying anything. "_Yare yare_, it's only temporary. Just a few more blocks and we'll be out of here."

"And where are we headed, exactly?"

I felt my smirk widen, giving her shoulder a light squeeze as we rounded a corner. "That's for me to know, and for you to find out," I purred impishly into the shell of her ear.

As I expected, Suzu-chan stiffened and stifled a yelp, trying – and failing – to jerk away from me with a bright flush painting her face a deep burgundy. "B-bastard! Don't do that!"

"Do what?" I asked innocently, though I was well aware my expression betrayed my tone. Suzu-chan was, too, if the humiliated and enraged glare she was currently pinning me with was of any indication.

"You're such an ass," she groaned into my shoulder, breaking eye contact completely. "Seriously."

"You have such a nice ass." I snaked my hand down to said body part and gave it a light squeeze for emphasis, grinning at her squawk of surprise. I added cheekily, "Seriously."

"Y-you fucker!" she growled, nails digging deep crescents into my knuckles as she nearly crushed my hand by moving it to a more appropriate location. "No matter how much that jacket makes you look like a pimp, I'm not your whore!"

I nearly gagged on my laughter, barely holding it in enough to choke out, "But you're still my bitch," just for the hell of it. And, of course, to reach around with my other hand to barely skim my fingers under the waistband of her skin-tight leggings. If she really just wore those for comfort and flexibility like she claimed, then I swore comfort never looked so good.

The knee to my groin I received was well worth it, too.

* * *

"What. Just..._what."_ I glared at the man standing across from me angrily, wishing I had another set of arms to cross and pummel him with at the same time.

Orihara grinned, bowing deeply to mock my incredulity. "Thank you oh-so-much, Izaya-sama, for presenting me this wonderful fine cuisine-consuming opportunity! This is a truly once-in-a-lifetime chance! I bow to your awesomeness and—"

"Fuck you," I cut him off roughly, yanking him upright by the collar of his stupid frilly and damnably snuggleable jacket. "Like hell I'll _thank you_ for waking me up at _one in the morning_ and dragging me for _one and a half goddamn hours_ across over half of Ikebukuro, _including the redlight district, _just to eat at Russia Sushi - which_, by the fucking way,_ is _four_ _fucking blocks from my fucking house."_

"You like to use the word 'fucking' a lot, don't you?" Orihara commented offhandedly, completely unfazed by my tirade - like usual.

"No," I sneered, barely holding back the nearly overpowering urge to rip him limb from limb - we were getting enough odd looks from the afterhours nightlife as it was, "I'd like to bash your pretty face in."

Of course, Orihara latched onto the only word about him. "You think I'm pretty?" he gloated arrogantly, obviously pleased.

Okay, so I had to admit he was rather handsome. Especially his eyes - they were just too unusual not to be. This up-close, I could see even in the dim streetlight slight flecks of hazel and brown amongst the shards of violent scarlet that dominated the majority of his irises. It was such a strange, oddly striking combination I couldn't help but be drawn to them.

All the same, he was still a psychopathic manipulative bastard.

"Yeah," I hissed lowly, dangerously. "Pretty fucking waist-deep in shit."

"Can we eat first?" he commented blithely, like I wasn't nearly strangling him with my hold on his collar and teetering on the fine, rocky edge of pure and utter obliteration. "I'm hungry."

"Are you stupid? Russia Sushi isn't even _open."_

As if on cue, the door to said supposedly closed restaurant burst open and the all-too familiar hulking form of Simon bounded up to us, an excited grin on his face. "Suzumi-san! Izaya-san!" he called gladly, and I did a double-take to make sure he was actually there. Unfortunately - or unfortunately; I wasn't quite sure at that point - he was. "Just in time! Russia Sushi good, yes?"

"'Just in time'?" I echoed disbelievingly, turning back to Orihara to ask just what the hell that was supposed to mean when I was cut off by Simon bodily dragging me toward Russia Sushi. The only plus side to that was the fact I hadn't let go of the scarlet-eyed bastard's collar, and as a result he stumbled along after us for a few steps before reclaiming himself.

I didn't even want to imagine what the three of us must have looked like.

When we finally went into the small restaurant, the strong smell of cooking food greeted my nose. Unlike during the day, only a few lights were on, and even then just above the sushi bar where Dennis was busy chopping away with his kickass and scary as hell knife. The Russian man looked up at our rather unconventional entry, an unsurprised smile on his weathered face.

"Nice to see you could make it," he beamed.

"Same here," Orihara stated nonchalantly, sauntering past Simon and me to pull out a stool at the bar.

Much to my dismay, Simon set me down beside him before hurrying off somewhere into the back, just in time for a plate of gyoza* and ama-ebi* to be placed in front of me along with a pair of unbroken chopsticks. Unwittingly, my stomach twisted in on itself at the sight. Damn, did that look good. I didn't touch anything, though, instead turning halfway in my seat to glare at Orihara who was busily scarfing down a shitload of ootoro after a brief exclamation of, _"Itadakimasu!*"_

He caught my stare, grinning even around his mouthful of food. I didn't give him the chance to swallow before I barked, "Explain."

"Don't be so hard on him, Suzumi-san," Dennis cut in, giving me one of his wise looks through the glass panel that separated us. "He just wanted to bring his girlfriend out for a nice night on the town." And for a great price, too, hung unspoken in the air. I could practically see the yen signs glittering in his hollowed eyes.

"Girlfriend," I repeated flatly, pinning Orihara with my special brand of The Look.

Orihara sniggered, swallowing with difficulty before holding his hands up in mock-surrender. "Not my exact wording, I swear."

"Like your toes aren't crossed right now," I scoffed.

Dennis laughed. "My bad, then," he excused himself gruffly, although the sly look in his eyes told a different story entirely. I looked back down at my food grumpily, still unsure.

"Might as well eat after all of the trouble they've gone through to set this up afterhours, y'know," Orihara finally prodded for the sake of it, obviously amused. "'Cause I know if you won't, I will."

I paused grudgingly, trying to find flaw in his words. After a few moments, I gave up trying. Even I - especially my stomach - couldn't find any wrong in his logic.

"Fine, but you're paying. _For everything."_

Orihara grinned at my acquiescence, and thus possibly the most awkward dinner of my entire life ensued.

After many uncomfortable advances from Simon to make me try and eat his peanut butter and jellyfish sushi (even I wouldn't go _that _far) and many not-so-subtle under the table groping attempts from Orihara during the course of our meal, he and I left with many thanks on his part, and a reluctant farewell on mine. Leaving them meant that I was technically alone with Orihara again, and despite the ungodly hour of the morning (three o' five am) he seemed completely undeterred and ready to drag me off into who knows what mischief. If anything, the look in his eyes told me he only seemed to be getting started.

Which, by the way, did not bode well for me. At all.

And Orihara knew it, too.

"Where are you forcing me now?" I asked after we were back out on the street. All I wanted to do was get this over with so I could go back home and _sleep._ Gah, fuck. Just thinking about it made me nearly drop dead on my feet...

"Around," Orihara replied vaguely, flashing a pompous smirk my way when I groaned.

"Around," I echoed, unamused.

"Around," he affirmed, chuckling.

Cue my dark scowl. "I hate you."

Snigger. "Love you too, Suzu-chan."

Narrowed eyes, crossed arms. "You're an ass."

Shit-eating grin of masculine pride. "I think we already went over this. Buuuut, if you wanna go _again..."_

Reluctant_, completely unnoticeable, dammit,_ flush. "P-perv! Like hell!"

"You're too cute," he laughed slinging an arm around my shoulders for what seemed like the millionth time that night. I scowled, but made no move to shove him off. He would just try – and most likely succeed – to embarrass me again in one way or another.

"I'm serious," I growled. "Tell me where we're going. _Now_."

"I just did," he laughed, but there was a serious underlying tone in his voice. "It'll be like that day you spent with me in Shinjuku. Savvy? "

…Oh. Well, that wouldn't be terribly bad. (As in, it could be _a lot_ worse.) So long as those weird "otaku munchkins", as I vaguely remembered Orihara calling them, didn't show up and try to squish me again I could survive. And if he didn't kiss me again, of course. (So I thought, at least. Hopefully.)

But then Orihara had to go and say _just to freak me out,_ "I'm not going to drag you to the back of an alley and rape you or anything, if that's what you're thinking." He grinned at my disgusted expression and added with a malicious leer, "That'd be way too easy." My only reaction was to roll my eyes and elbow him in the gut, but he wasn't what was really bothering me.

In and of itself, my familiarity and indifference toward him and his words were much more disturbing than what he was actually saying.

Our "jaunt" through Ikebukuro, as Orihara like to call it, started out fairly normal – as normal as something with Orihara could get, anyway. Which really wasn't normal at all. We started out just walking (whoa – surprise, surprise) through the streets, bickering back and forth about really stupid and/or inconsequential things, like why he always wore the same goddamn outfit or why I never wore anything besides my school uniform or a tank and some jeans or a sweatshirt (Lies! I wore pajamas – and despite what he said, it counted!) or which restaurant sold the best ootoro (though on that one we mutually settled on Russia Sushi), et cetera, et cetera. One time we even ended up arguing about videogames. I don't remember how, exactly, only that I learned Orihara himself was partial to Pokémon. Something about the quest to 'catch 'em all', he'd said.

Honestly, I shouldn't have been all that surprised.

But as it was, I burst out laughing, uncaring of the strange looks I was getting from those around us as I leaned against the wall beside the door to some obscure flower shop, hand against my heaving abdomen. Just the image of Orihara, scarlet eyes alight with childlike excitement as he played on a red DS _Pokémon_ of all things, little sound effects and all (oh, Pikachu!) while spinning in his office chair, fluffy jacket rustling as he cheered, "Gotta catch 'em all!" just sent me over the edge.

Frankly, I didn't think I'd laughed that hard in…well, ever.

Orihara, however, was not as amused by my outburst, though I could tell he found my laughter entertaining despite it being at his expense. He looked more confused and even a little miffed, if nothing else, sidling up beside me and waiting rather impatiently for my fit to subside. By the time I was done, I could feel tears of mirth prickling at the corners of my eyes and quickly wiped them away with the hem of my sleeve, gasping for breath as a few more spare sniggers escaped my lips. Oh fuck. Some things just _cannot _be unseen.

"What's so funny?"

I heaved a breathy chuckle again, clamping down the rest of them for later deliberation in my boring History class on Monday. "Nothing." I looked back up at him, trying and ultimately failing when he quirked a brow and a smile cracked its way across my face.

"Liar," he accused, but I could see he was slightly amused all the same. "I much prefer you scowling and blushing."

"Pfft," I snorted, pushing off of the wall and lacing my thumbs through the belt loops on my jean-leggings. "You're just put out because I'm the one laughing at _you_ for once."

Orihara stuck his bottom lip out at me, pouting. _Pouting_. And it was for real this time. I cheered inwardly, feeling as though I won some sort of small battle. Because, well, I sort of did. I don't think many people could make _the_ Izaya Orihara pout. If there was anyone besides me I seriously needed to meet them. I made a mental note to laugh at him more often.

"What's to laugh at?" he questioned, a hint of honesty tingeing his words.

I rolled my eyes. "Your face," I mocked.

Orihara scoffed, his trademark smirk slithering its way up to the corners of his ears. "Real mature, Suzu-chan."

I bowed sardonically twice, one hand at my front and one at my tailbone in a gentlemanly manner. "Thank you, thank you. I try."

"You're not welcome," he barked out a laugh, hauling my up by the catch of my hood on the second bow while my head was still down. I let out a surprised yelp as he proceeded to haul me along by my sweatshirt, stumbling on my flats as they scraped loudly against the pavement to keep up with him. I was eternally grateful that I hadn't done anything with the ties, even if the collar of it did chafe unpleasantly against the hollow of my throat. Dying via hoodie asphyxiation by the hands of my enemy at the mere age of sixteen was not especially high on my list of priorities.

He let me go after several minutes (and hushed yelling and calf-kicking, of course), though. I turned around to look where he had – literally – dragged me to this time. Almost immediately I recognized it as the old, abandoned Love Hotel where we had first met.

I turned my questioning gaze to Orihara, but he just ignored me in favor of smiling lopsidedly and sauntering up to the rusted, unchained doors and slipping through them. I followed after him hurriedly, nearly running into his chest as soon as I entered. He looked down at me strangely for a moment, weird smile still present. I raised a brow at him in question, trying not to sneeze from all of the dust. I hated my allergies sometimes.

"What?" I asked, unable to explain why my voice was suddenly so quiet. It almost felt as though if I were to raise it above a loud whisper everything around us would shatter. Was there something on my face?

Orihara's peculiarly striking crimson eyes flickered from mine toward something outside behind me for a moment, and when I looked over my shoulder to see what he was looking at I was greeted by an empty street – the same as when we entered. I turned back around to ask what the hell that was all about, but Orihara was already halfway up the stairs leading to the roof at the back of the room. I frowned, perplexed. What the fuck?

Mood considerably dampened by my curiosity and irritation at being ignored – _he _was the one who had blackmailed me out here, after all – I quickly walked up the stairs, taking two at a time. Orihara was leaning against the rooftop railing when I got to the landing a few moments later, his front facing me as he looked up at the cloudy, starless sky.

The image caught me off-guard. He almost seemed…brooding. In all my time knowing him I'd never once seen him be so solemn. That time after Shizuo was completely different than this. Back then he was angry – livid, even. Jealous was an understatement. But brooding? I didn't even think such a word was in his personal vocabulary.

I approached him quietly, settling my elbows on the metal beside him, staying silent. I knew what it felt like to brood, and despite the weirdness of _him_ doing it I knew he wouldn't want to be disturbed. I was still hyperaware of his presence, though, half of me expecting his sudden three-eighty degree change in mood to be a hoax to observe my reaction. I wouldn't put it past him.

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting in silence, I started to get annoyed. I couldn't see the moon because of the clouds, but my internal clock told me it was somewhere around four am. The sun was going to rise in about a half an hour, and I needed to be getting back home. Toshiyuki worked on Saturdays, after all, which meant getting up at six-thirty to make the usual morning commute to the local Ikebukuro University. My life would be effectively ruined if I wasn't there when he woke up.

"What's up with you?" I asked, quietly burying my chin in the folds of my sweatshirt. It had been a while since I'd been up here and I'd forgotten just how cold it could get. "You're never this quiet and un-obnoxious."

"Che'," Orihara laughed, more a breath of air than anything else. "Nothing."

I rolled my eyes, but inwardly awarded him with a _touché._ I deserved that after using it on him earlier. But if he didn't want to talk to me about it, then it really wasn't my problem. "Fine. But it's getting late – uh, early, I guess – and I need to be getting home before my uncle gets up for work. Not to mention I feel like a zombie. So if it's cool with you, I'd like to get going."

He smirked, meeting my gaze by half-turning in my direction. I couldn't help but notice how the light from the streetlamp hit his face _just so_ at that angle, making me swallow with difficulty at the warmth spreading across my face. "Since when do you ask my permission for anything?"

"Since you have blackmail on me sleeping in my undergarments," was my flat, peeved reply.

"Right." He laughed. "I almost forgot about that."

Honestly, I couldn't tell if he was lying or not. And him having said what he said, that was a scary thing indeed.

All the same, though, I found that jinxing myself was something I should have been more frightened of. I learned quickly that my night was far from over.

* * *

Reluctantly, I agreed to let Suzu-chan go back home – with me accompanying her, of course. It was dangerous for her to walk alone at night, after all. It was about a fifteen or so minute walk to her house from the old hotel, and the walk was spent mostly in silence, I still too absorbed in my thoughts to be all that much of my usual conversationalist self.

What I had seen behind Suzumi back at the hotel…Could it have been what I actually thought it was?

I was broken from my thoughts about halfway there when she suddenly stopped a few paces behind me, eyes wide. I looked back at her, questioning. She was the one that wanted to go home, so what was up with the delay?

"Suzu-chan?" No response. I frowned, huffing inwardly. How rude.

But when I went to look just what had her so starstruck, I knew exactly why she was lingering. A young man somewhere in his older teens or early twenties was lying sprawled across the pavement next to a dumpster, completely unconscious. I recognized his pug nose and terrible dye job and – _oh_ – that atrociously neon sweatshirt right away. He was one of the kidnappers under Namie that I had manipulated into nabbing Suzu-chan wheneverago. Whatshisface Somethingoranother, if I remembered correctly.

Huh. Interesting.

Suzu-chan was busy gaping angrily, looking torn between bashing his face in, continuing home, and laughing out loud at the drool dripping down his face. That expression was possibly the cutest I'd ever seen on her, besides her adorable deer-in-the-headlights look. Just thinking about it made the blood in my veins tingle with excitement.

"Old boyfriend?" I joked with her teasingly.

"Fuck you," she snapped, ripping herself from her impromptu stupor. She opened her mouth to continue what was most undeniably a long rant on personal space issues – seriously, when the hell would she get over that kidnapping? – but before she could do so an obnoxious American rap song (I could tell by her according wince) literally rang out from the unconscious man's sweatshirt pocket, the telltale glow of his cell phone screen showing through the violently orange fabric.

I quickly knelt down to snatch it, excited to mess with whoever was on the other end. I silenced Suzu-chan's protests with a loud greeting of, "Sushi love! I like ootoro!"

She gaped at me wordlessly for a moment, before closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose tiredly with a heavy sigh. I grinned. Izaya: 78. Suzu-chan: 13.

And yes, I counted.

"Izaya?" came the surprised, crackly voice through the receiver. "Why do you have this phone?"

"Dotachin!" I exclaimed, taken aback albeit pleased. "And why, I was just walking along and it happened to ring just so. What brings you here?"

An awkward cough. "Well…"

As I listened to him explain about his kidnapped 'friend' – oh, Namie, you sneaky devil! – I couldn't help but grin, glancing at the quite ruffled Suzu-chan out of the corner of my eye. She was far less than pleased, I could tell. Seriously, she was just—

"**IZAYAAA!"**

Perfect timing like always, Shizu-chan.

Well, at least Suzu-chan quit frowning when I ditched her to outrun the idiotic blond, squawking something about commitment before getting knocked unconscious via blunt end of a telephone pole. I was sure that when Dotachin's gang came to pick her up on my behest she would learn a thing or two about patience. The Otaku Munchkins were good for things like that.

So long as she didn't get hugged to death first, of course.

* * *

*Gyoza – dumplings. BEST THING ON EARTH BESIDES DURARARA. *O*

*Ama-ebi – think I mentioned this before in a previous chap, but it's basically just raw shrimp. C:

*Itadakimasu – If you seriously don't know this then gtfo. (Jk, jk, it's kind of like 'let's eat' or 'thanks for the food' :P)

**Why did you title this chapter **_**Skipping Stones?**_

The game Skipping Stones is where a person (or persons) skips a flat rock across a body of water. Hard as hell, but really rewarding when accomplished. Anyway, I chose Skipping Stones for this chapter because it is the _real_ beginning of the true game their setting themselves – wittingly or no – up for; "they" as in all of the characters, introduced or otherwise, in _Snowblind_. It's hard to explain, but I'll try my best. Each time the stone hits the water, it creates a ripple. This chapter was the true first, and has created the largest ripple of all and has set up the stage for the next skip. Everything before now was merely the thrower getting ready to toss the stone. The stone has to sink at some point, too, and the ripples left in its wake will undoubtedly collide and spread as far as they can reach.

But the real questions are: who threw the stone in the first place? And how many skips will the stone have – if any, or is this the sinking point?

**What does Izaya think was behind Suzumi?**

Hehehe. You'll just have to see, won't you~? *feels diabolical*

**Why hasn't anyone been visiting your livejournal, **_**soriana**_**?**

I should be asking _you_ that. *feels lonely* D':

**Izaya is even pervier than usual here, isn't he?**

Yes. I didn't intend him to be that way, but my inner Iza-nyan and fangirl took over and decided to pervify him even more than normal. I don't think you guys mind, though. Hehehe.

**Why is Izaya pervy for Suzumi in the first place, anyway?**

Because he likes her reactions. It's a bit of a guilty pleasure of his, actually. Nothing less and nothing more. While he is fully aware that she isn't ugly by any means, he still kind of views her body – note that I did not say her mind/mentality – as a kid, i.e. younger than him. Which she is. Don't worry, though. He'll see what's in front of him eventually~ *devious smirk*

**So you mean Izaya isn't attached to her at all? What about when Namie told him he'd pay and he was worried? Or when he was jealous about Shizuo? **

Okay, I just want to make this clear because I think I've failed in doing that in the actual story: **Izaya is not emotionally attached to Suzumi in any way, shape, or form.** All he wants from her is to observe her actions and reactions. All of his perverted comments, kidnappings, and texts/calls, etc., are just to see her reactions. That was why he's playing the game with her in the first place, remember? He isn't in love, crushing, or interested in becoming her friend. (coughyetcough) He knows Suzumi isn't ugly (and perhaps take a tiny bit of physical satisfaction in molesting her) but has no interest in anything other than pulling her psyche apart. (For now, that is. Hehehe.) When Namie told him he'd pay, he was worried about losing his test subject – not about Suzumi's wellbeing just to be a good person. Same goes for the thing with Shizuo.

**Well, what about Suzumi? Doesn't she think he's hot?**

Yep. But, honestly – who doesn't? Other than canon!Shizu-chan, of course, but we all know that rivalry is just pent-up sexual tension…xD

Ahem. Anyway, Suzumi's thought Izaya was hot shit from pretty much the start. Chapter three, I think. (Whoa, ages ago haha.) But she's even more aware of his personality, and like any sensible young woman knows he isn't the best choice. She thinks his inhumane behavior is quite unsettling/sickening. Secretly, though, his mischievous nature really turns her on…

**Have you gotten any fanart inspired by **_**Snowblind?**_

I have, actually. I've been meaning to post up the link to the second one on my profile, but…hehe. *cough* Yeah. Firstly, my beloved waifu Ash drew me Suzumi as an anniversary gift here: aschetree . deviantart .com /art /australia -180406679

And the amazing and wonderful GoldenAurora drew some sketches of Suzumi, Izaya, Toshiyuki, and a bunch of other characters here: saidokado .deviantart .com /art/ DRRR-Sketch-181765281

I hope you don't mind me telling everyone about your loveliness, hun. Thanks so much again. C:

**I love you.**

I love you too.

(You have no idea how much I've gotten confessions of love. Seriously. Not that I mind, of course. I'm really flattered when people say that stuff xD)

As always, thank you all so much for your patience and support! Reviews feed my muse. Do you want it to starve? ;D


	13. Keep Away

**Title:** Snowblind

**Author:** DeadSummerXx

**Characters/Pairing:** Izaya Orihara & OC

**Type:** Continuous (Incomplete)

**Genre:** Romance/General/Humor

**Word Count:** 4,172

**Rating:** M (contains content suitable for mature teens and older)

**Disclaimer:** Durarara! belongs to its respective owners.

**Summary:** In a trial of insanity and hope, the fine line between truth and lies is nonexistent, and even the smallest of errors can blind one into believing the unbelievable. But then again, of what worth is a game when one does not have a worthy opponent?

**Created on:** 12/18/10

**Completed on:** 12/25/10

**Chapter Last Revised on:** 2/15/11

**A/N:** DEWLURYFLWEFHDG

DWWURYDSADASLDFH

GKJAFHGAWERGT

GDFHGERG

GHRGERT

UM.

HI GUYS. IT'S BEEN A WHILE, HASN'T IT?

I'm really sorry about the wait. ;n; I'm sorry if this isn't up to par, because writing has just been skdjasdlfads for me lately and I'm a bit rusty after being gone so long—not to mention I could barely read the draft of this I wrote in my notebook. I really need to change my bastardly handwriting…

Anyway, since it's Christmas, I have my new computer. (FAPFAPFAPFAP) It's a Toshiba with Vista, if you were wondering – and if I've ranted to you before about the amazingness of this gorgeous contraption, you know how much of a mess I am right now.

(/pedobear-strokes shiny computer

_My precious…)_

Oh, and before I went on half-hiatus the wonderful _kurobunnyalice _suggested that I give out a playlist for each chapter to set the mood, so yeah. Here you go. I didn't include what I was listening to while writing this, though, btw. I highly doubt Here Comes the King by X-Ray Dog or Europa by Globus would go along with this at all…;u;

Also, no particular order – nor do any of these songs hint toward what is going to happen. (Except Australia, of course, being the official _Snowblind _theme song and all.

…or do they?) /JUST AS PLANNED FAIC

**Australia by The Shins**

**I Don't Wanna be in Love by Good Charlotte**

**Infra-Red by Placebo**

**Fader by The Temper Trap**

**Ashtray Heart by Placebo**

Yarp that's about it, methinks. Idk orz I'm terrible at picking themes so if some of them don't go along at certain parts blame me for that. ;n;

AGAIN. SORRY FOR THE 1921629351325-SEPTILLION-YEAR WAIT. NOW I'LL JUST SHUT UP AND LET YOU READ.

* * *

_Chapter Thirteen_

_**Keep Away**_

_**

* * *

**_

"Wow…Izaya-nyan wasn't lying when he said we'd find her passed out by a dumpster."

"Yumacchi, look at her _forehead_…Man, Shizuo-san must've been really pissed to accidentally hit her instead of him and not even notice! See the huge bruise? Kyaa!"

I could feel my brow twitch in annoyance, both directed Izaya and the two idiots squealing over nothing. I wasn't surprised that Izaya was so irresponsible (sort of – he called us to pick Suzumi-san up after all, but the fact that he dragged her into this in the first place still blaringly stood), and that Walker and Erika were being their usual irritating selves, but the main priority now was to get her inside the van to continue chasing down Kaztano. With every passing second, he got farther and farther away and closer to experimentation and death and Goodness knows what else. I personally didn't know Kaztano very well at all, but Togusa did, and like hell I was about to give up on him just because of it.

"Hurry it up, you two," I called out to them gruffly from the shotgun window. I spared a quick glance at Togusa beside me, who was wringing his fingers around the steering wheel like he wanted to snap it in half. "We don't have time to waste."

"Got it, Dotachin!" they replied simultaneously with nearly identical shiteating grins before bending down to pick the girl up – Erika at her feet and Walker at her shoulders, purposely trampling over the man in the obnoxious sweatshirt on their way. I blanched when they literally threw her in the back a few seconds later, her limp body landing with a dull _smack_ against the opposite interior side of the car. Ignoring their nickname for me—I'd learned long ago that nothing could sway them unless they wanted it to—I didn't get the chance to chide them for their manhandling before Togusa took off down the street with a deafening squeal of tires, barely waiting enough in time for Erika and Walker to scramble in back with their new charge and close the sliding door behind them.

I winced again when Suzumi-san's body was jostled around once more at a sharp turn, rolling into a box of manga and nearly toppling it over. It was followed quickly by Erika's patternless laughter and a sound of dismay from Walker, and I felt a twinge of pity for the poor girl.

If Walker and Erika's enthusiasm didn't kill her first, then Togusa's insane driving would.

**

* * *

**

When I awoke, it was déjà vu all over again.

First of all, everything _hurt_. My head especially. If the lights flickering on-and-off over my closed eyelids told me anything, I was in some sort of vehicle – most likely a van. At the very least I wasn't tied up like last time (which was stupid on their part, seriously) but I knew that it was still all Orihara's fault. I groaned inwardly, not wanting to alert the loud mouthbreathers in front of me that I was awake. It was so eerily akin to that time I was first kidnapped by Orihara it wasn't even funny.

I tried thinking back to how I got here, but most of it was just…blank. I vaguely remembered someone screaming Orihara's name furiously and then getting hit by a large, stick-like somethingoranother. That explained my throbbing temple, I guessed. The only possible explanation was Shizuo had found Orihara and chased after him – which could only mean the _asshole _had ditched me and left me to be picked up by anyone whoever felt like it.

Fucking hell how Karma must hate me. What the fuck did I ever do to Her to make Her hate me so badly?

I let out an irritated whimper despite myself. I didn't blame Shizuo for accidentally hitting me (I'd've probably done the same thing in his shoes), but Orihara on the other hand…

Well, let's just say his ass was _mine._

Once I got out of this place and kicked the asses of the people that tried to kidnap me (again), that is. I scowled, shifting my jaw to test out what was underneath me. The side of my face was pressed down against something cold and rough, probably carpet. I cracked open my eye a hairsbreadth, and the dull gray fibers worn from use that greeted my gaze confirmed my suspicions. Something was off, though. The carpet smelt kind of like…was that Old Spice? A sniff.

Yeah. Definitely Old Spice.

Great, I couldn't help but think sarcastically. My kidnappers wore _Old Spice._ Just fucking peachy. Not to mention the salty, decayed smell of blood, alcohol, and cigarette smoke.

Just. Seriously.

What the fuck?

"Oi, Yumacchi! I think she's waking up!"

I froze, breath catching in my throat. I knew that voice all too well. It had been several weeks since I'd last heard it, but it rang clear and familiar through my mind all the same, high-pitched and surprisingly girly. It wasn't something I would be forgetting anytime soon. _Oh fuck no God no no nononono I'll start going to church and pray every night just God please please _please_ don't let it be—_

"Awesome! Erika, break out the APH!"

Fuck my life.

* * *

"—oh, and this is Greece. He's a total sex god and likes to screw Japan—"

"Did you see that ecchi doujin of them in the onsen? Th—"

"Shut up, Yumacchi. Anyway, this is Spain. He has the hots for South Italy and calls him 'Lovi'. Actually, their relationship is a lot like yours and Izaya-nyan's. You're so tsundere like Romano and Iza-chii is so sadistic and moe like Toni and you both are so much _The Perfect Manga Couple _it isn't even funny~! And this is Denmark and Norway and—"

I winced, unintentionally letting a pitiful whimper slip past my lips. The two loons blathering about this inadvertently yaoi-centric series called Hetalia Axis Powers in front of me carried on, though, oblivious to my discomfort. In the rearview mirror I saw—Dotachin or something, I think Orihara called him—shoot me a sympathetic glance, like he'd already done all he could—which was saying something about Erika and Walker, because he did absolutely _nothing—_and I returned his expression tenfold and mouthed a pitiful, "Help me!"

Which, of course, was only cut off as the side of my face smacked the inside of the car door due to Togusa rounding another sharp corner. Again.

"Damn it," I cursed lowly in English, clutching at my throbbing jaw painfully as I tried to clear the stars from my eyes. My head hurt enough from when Shizuo accidentally clouted me earlier with a pole or whatever the hell it was, and with the continuous door-bashing it was only made worse. The Otaku Munchkins' rattling didn't exactly help, either. It almost felt as though I had a light concussion, and trust me when I say I knew what one felt like. Shit.

"—ver _seen!_ And then there's a movie coming out called _Paint It White_ and America and England—"

Deciding I'd heard enough about Florida and Big Ben and the Eiffel Tower—much more than I could have gone on living without, _thankyouverymuch_—to last me a lifetime, I cut Erika (I still couldn't tell if she was a girl or a woman) off with a raised hand and a withering glare. To be honest, I was surprised that she even let me do so, but the both of them fell absolutely silent at my command.

Stumbling over my words for a moment (damn concussions to the fucking depths of Hell and beyond), I finally gathered my thoughts enough to grind out, _"What the hell is going on."_

It wasn't a question, and thankfully Dotachin (was that his real name? I'd have to ask Orihara later after I finished skinning him alive with the dull spoon Toshiyuki kept in his dresser drawer…) caught onto that fact before The Otaku Munchkins could say anything stupid(er). "Izaya asked us to take care of you for a while," he interrupted bluntly, shooting The Look at Erika and Walker—that of which they both simultaneously ignored in favor of fawning over what looked like a very disturbing drawing of two Asian men going at it in corsets and wicked grins and little else.

I grit my teeth and shut my eyes, trying to block out the horrifying image. It was a futile endeavor, however, as it was already seared into my corneas and would probably always stay imprinted there.

I _really _needed to stop getting kidnapped.

"No shit, Sherlock," I grumbled in reply, burying my face in my palms and inhaling deeply to stop myself from punching a hole in the plastic interior of the car out of frustration—if I did, I had little doubt that Togusa would rip me to shreds with his bare hands. Of _course_ Orihara had told them to "take care of me for a while." Everything was always that bastard's fault, I thought, wincing as my fingers came in contact with the throbbing bruise blossoming across the left side of my forehead. Grudgingly, I tacked on yet another point in Orihara's favor on my internal scoreboard.

**Suzumi's Logic: **0.01

**Orihara's Shenanigans:** 937,647,649,783

(Okay, fine. That was a tad bit of an exaggeration, but fuck. Just.

_Fuck.)_

Out of my blurry peripheral vision, I could see Erika and Walker sharing identical grins, and, apparently sensing my inner turmoil, shifted the mere three centimeters it took to reach me and placed one hand on each of my shoulders respectively. I stiffened under the contact, pulling my hand away from my face look at the both of them with wary teal eyes, and they met my cautious glare head on with giddy smiles.

"You're thinking about Izaya-nyan, aren't you?" Erika prodded ever-so-subtly, leaning closer to my face so much so that our noses were almost touching. Inadvertently, I flushed at our proximity and narrowed my eyes.

"N-no," I stuttered out, inwardly cursing my traitorous tongue and Erika's female intuition. Seriously, this wasn't even any of her business.

"You lie." Her grin widened even further, and I marveled at how that was even possible before processing what she'd just said. There was _no way_—

"C'mon, Suzu-san," Walker prodded, and I could tell he was holding back laughter. "You were, weren't you?"

"I don't see how that's any of your—!"

"He likes you, y'know," Erika interrupted smoothly, not missing a beat, and I nearly spat fire at her. No _fucking duh _he likes me_._ "I've never seen him act so passionately about anyone before."

That made me still, eyes widening a hairsbreadth. Passionately...? "What do you mean, 'passionately'?" I echoed, wincing at how my voice came out a tentative murmur. Something in both of their eyes shifted, as if saying, "_Hook, line, and _sinker!"

To be honest, I wasn't completely sure if I'd have rather been legitimately kidnapped at that point or not.

"He talks about you all the time," Erika tittered, leaning forward eagerly, and I had to lean back into the sliding door with my shoulders hunched in order to avoid clonking our foreheads together. "I don't see him often, but he calls Dotachin all the time and it's obvious it's about you."

"No one else has ever lasted this long, either," Walker pointed out, and _since when were his eyes so slit?_ "Normally they're gone after a day or so, after he's found out all he wants to know from them."

"Which means," Erika continued excitedly, "that there's something s_pecial_ about you. Izaya-nyan loves all of humanity and wants to learn something from each and every person, so for him to stay on you for so long is just incredible...He must really love you more than anyone else."

My breath caught in my throat. Th-that was just—just no, no, _no. _Love? Ha! That was just ridiculous! I sincerely doubted Orihara even knew how to truly love someone other than himself. Him, love _me?_ It was laughable. All he did was constantly belittle and tease and provoke and molest me, and although I had very little experience with it, I knew that _that_ most certainly was _not_ love—_no matter _what _these two morons said!_

I grit my teeth and pinned them with a harsh, unforgiving glare. "You're obviously blind as bats. There's no fucking way in Hell—"

"Would you three just shut up?" Togusa cut in angrily from the driver's seat, snarling furiously at us in the rearview mirror. I blinked, surprised at the display of aggression. Both Walker and Erika paused as well, although Dotachin didn't even bat an eye. "We're almost at the checkpoint, so it'd be really nice if you would just sit still and shut your goddamn traps!"

My nostrils flared in irritation at having been bossed around, but I held my tongue. I knew that if I said anything Erika and Walker would just start back up again, and that was the last thing I wanted. But what did he mean by checkpoint? By then, I was sure that they weren't going to traffic me off on some underground market—but if not that, then what?

The answer to that question became apparent all too soon as we swerved violently, screeching to a sudden abrupt halt at the mouth of a darkened alley, and I let out a surprised, pained gasp as my head slammed against the back of Togusa's seat. Blinding white exploded across my vision, and for a moment I couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't breathe. But then Erika's shout of "There they are!" brought me crashing back down to reality, and I barley had enough time to register the sliding door being thrown open before I was forced to curl up into a fetal position to avoid getting trampled by Erika and Walker as they dashed out of the van.

There was the loud, piercing wail of tires skidding against pavement, and out of the corner of my peripheral vision I saw the two of them wrench open the doors to another vehicle, Dotachin and Togusa arriving to help them not shortly after. A rather burly, foreign-looking man came tumbling out of the back seat seconds later with hands tied behind his back, but with the help of Togusa was shortly freed. The two people in the front seats caught my eye as one was literally dragged out of the passenger side by Dotachin and Erika, but before Walker could get to him, the one in the driver's seat stumbled out of the car and tried to make a run for it.

I blinked, recognition slowly registering in my mind. That was..._that was the bastard that had kidnapped me!_ It all made sense now—the man in the neon sweatshirt, the cell phone, Dotachin and co., the crazy driving, the foreigner in the back of the van...They were rescuing him, and Orihara had just manipulated me into going along for the ride, that royal intuitive _ass_.

But although I absolutely abhorred being manipulated in any way, shape, or form, especially by Orihara, at that moment I couldn't bring myself to care—because, now, it was time for _payback._

Instinctively, I pushed myself out of the van despite my pulsing temples, landing harshly on the hard ground. The impact jarred my ankles due to the little sole support my flats provided, but I ignored the sharp discomfort in favor of sprinting after him. I was barely able to snag the collar of his ratty dress shirt before he rounded the alleyway's corner, whipping out a switchblade from his sleeve to slash at my midsection from behind. I caught his wrist in a bone-bruising grip before the metal could slice through my flesh, and, twisting it behind his back and slamming him straight head-on into the dirty cement wall, I let out an angered growl.

"Not this time, dollface," I sneered venomously, squeezing his already injured wrist for emphasis as his glasses cracked from the impact, knife clattering noisily to the ground. He'd tried to slice me up when we'd last met, too, and I couldn't help but feel satisfaction at his sudden pained gasp.

"You," he rasped, glaring at me with bleary eyes through the fringe of his bangs and a veil of fractured glass. I scowled at the putrid stench of foul smoke on his breath.

"Me," I confirmed snarkily. "Long time no see, eh?"

He snorted condescendingly into the frayed collar of his shirt, curling his lip before he spat, "Too short of a time, if you ask me."

"Che," I scoffed. "You've got some nerve—"

"Yo! Suzu-san! Bring 'im over here, will ya?"

I started at Erika's call, slowly registering the words. I sighed tartly through my nose, releasing my grip on his shirt in favor of digging my fingers into his scalp and hauling him off by the roots of his hair. He let out a sharp, surprised hiss, jerking back his head to glance at me fiercely. I returned his look tenfold, kicking mercilessly at the backs of his calves to get him moving.

He stumbled forward a bit, but my grip on his hair kept him from falling flat on his face, and before he could quite process what was happening I threw him over to where his companion's hands were being tied to the dead streetlamp behind his back by Erika and Walker. Dotachin caught him by the scruff of his neck, quickly subduing him as well. A short glance over to the van told me that Togusa was comforting the escapee, and I vaguely wondered if they had any familial connection.

My train of thought was cut off, however, as one of the men—the one I'd dragged over here—cursed loudly when Dotachin twisted his already bruised wrist. I smirked, and, seeing it, he bared his teeth. "You bitch," he snarled.

"Takes one to know one," I shot back effortlessly, and the more carnal side of me positively _relished _in his grimace of fury. His blond partner shrunk back from my gaze, muttering out curses underneath his breath.

I relished in that, too.

"You three know each other?" Walker asked, smiling like none of this was out of the ordinary as he straightened to his full height from his crouching position. Erika did the same shortly after. Maybe, to them, it wasn't unusual, I thought. I could never really tell with those two.

"Unfortunately," I groused, crossing my arms sourly in reply. "A month or so ago Orihara hired them to kidnap me for his own sick amusement."

Erika laughed, high and tittering like a bird. "That sounds like something he'd do."

I muttered darkly to myself in agreement. That was the understatement of the century.

"O-Orihara-san?" the blond man stuttered, eyes wide. "We would never—"

"Shut the fuck up!" the brunette hissed, awkwardly elbowing his partner in the shoulder. The contact was light, but apparently painful enough to elicit a sharp gasp from him and clamp his mouth shut in fear of being struck again.

I narrowed my eyes. "No, do carry on." It wasn't a suggestion. I needed to know about Orihara _now._

The blond man spared a quick, nervous glance at his companion, and the harsh glare sent his way stopped him from saying anything further. I sneered, lunging forward to shake him by the collar of his wrinkled T-shirt. He stiffened, jaw clenching in anticipation as he averted his eyes to the cigarette burn on the hem of his jacket.

"Trust me," I all but growled, none-too-gently shoving his chin up with my knuckles to force him to look me in the eye. I hated it when people didn't see me when I was talking to them. "Anything your little _friend_ could possibly do to you would pale in comparison to what _I _could do."

There was a slight quiver in his lips, but when he stayed silent, I grew impatient and brought my heel up to stomp it back down to the ground between his legs, a hairsbreadth away from his groin. His thighs shot apart just in time, and, letting out a surprised cry of alarm, he reeled back as far as his bindings would allow and accidentally smacked his head on the lamp. Ignoring his whimpers of pain, shook his collar for extra emphasis as I said, "Now, let's try this again, shall we?"

"Don't you dare say a wor—" the brunette began to threaten, only to be cut off as the sole of Erika's boot kicked the side of his face. He groaned and slumped down pitifully, obviously unconscious. I looked up at her, surprised (and, in all honesty, I had forgotten anyone else was even there), but she simply smiled back down at me with that ambiguous grin of hers.

I left it at that.

"Now, tell me what you were going to say," I prompted sternly, turning back to the man in my grasp, though gentler this time.

He licked his chapped lips awkwardly before swallowing thickly. "W-we would never take assignments from Orihara-san. It would be suicide."

I stilled, grip on his clothing temporarily loosening. Wh-what? "You mean...Orihara didn't tell you to kidnap me?" He shook his head, looking slightly more relieved. "Then who?" I demanded. Not to mention, _how? _Orihara had to have had some sort of hand in it if he knew that it was going to happen!

"Y-Yagiri Pharmaceuticals. They've been hiring us for the past several months to traffic them human test subjects. I don't r-really know the specifics because they don't tell us much else besides who to nab, but that's the general gist of it," he murmured hurriedly, a pleading look in his eyes as if to say, _pleasepleaseplease don't kill me._

I ignored him in favor of processing his words. _Yagiri Pharmaceuticals...isn't that_—

_"_The bankrupt medicinal company that's been making a big scene all over the news lately?" Togusa asked. I glanced back at him over my shoulder, slightly miffed at the brunette for interrupting my thoughts, although I was somewhat surprised to see the escapee trailing not too far behind him with a large smile on his face. "_The_ Yagiri Pharmaceuticals?"

"The very same," the blond replied, twisting his neck uncomfortably. "The people they ask us to bring in are usually foreigners no one would have attachment to." His eyes flickered to me for a second, and I scowled, dropping him with a flourish to stand up and kick the wall out of frustration. It all made sense now. Orihara was an information broker. Where else would a dying company get the resources to execute such a dirty, underground operation? Where else would they find the information to gather up such obscure people? I was sure that he'd even typed up a pretty little list for them too, spinning in his stupid, goddamn spinning chair humming Renai Circulation (creeper) and drinking his fucking disgusting sugar with coffee.

And Orihara had put me on that very same list for shits and giggles, that _son of a mother__**fucking**_**—**

"That's _it!_" I snarled tersely, shouldering past Togusa and over to the corner of the alleyway. "I am _out _of here." I had a certain red-eyed asshole to find and beat the shit out of, thankyouverymuch. There was no fucking way in hell I was letting this slide. By now I knew the streets fairly well thanks to Orihara dragging me around everywhere, and I just had to follow Shizuo's path of destruction, right? If I remembered correctly, Orihara and I were last at the corner of—

A hand clamped around the crook of my elbow just as I was about to turn the rest of the block, and I let out a surprised gasp as I was caught off balance and was sent reeling backward. Dotachin caught my shoulder and steadied me with his other hand in a bruising grip, hands searing cold through the thin fabric of my sweatshirt.

I half-turned, head upturned to pin him with a harsh glare. "What the hell do you think you're—?"

"Izaya'll have my head if I let you out of my sight until you're back home safely," he snapped fiercely. My eyes widened, and I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat. Since when were his eyes such a fiery auburn? "Now get back in the van."

Reluctantly, Erika's words wormed their way inside of my mind yet again.

_"He must really love you more than anyone else."_

I bared my teeth and shook my head to rid myself of my troublesome thoughts, grudgingly obeying Dotachin's command as he dragged me back to the vehicle. It was a lie, I finally decided firmly. That bastard had kidnapped me on more than one occasion and had made my life since coming to Ikebukuro a living Hell. It wasn't even a remote possibility that he was—_in love _with me, of all things.

Erika's words were lies, nothing less and nothing more.

* * *

I love the word shenanigans. CB

And there are prolly a lot of mistakes in this, but eh. I'll go over it later. –u-

**Why did you title this chapter _Keep Away?_**

_Keep Away_, also called _Monkey in the Middle, Piggy in the Middle, Pickle in a Dish_, or _Pickle in the Middle_, is a children's game in which two or more players must pass a ball to one another, while a player in the middle attempts to intercept it. The game could be considered a reverse form of dodgeball, because instead of trying to hit people in the middle with the ball, players attempt to keep the ball away from them. Essentially, the reason I titled this chapter so is basically because Suzumi is the pickle in the middle, so to speak, trying to grasp answers to her questions as people hurl them above her. c:

**Aren't you going to do a double update?**

Weeeellll…that was the original plan, yes, but I unfortunately underestimated the trolling abilities of my family (and my seven-year-old cousin who, apparently, likes to bodyslam me into doors) so I wasn't able to type up the rest of chapter fourteen. It's about halfway done, so I should be able to get it finished in a day or two. So I guess I'll just have to try my best to double update on New Year's instead. Sorry guys. ;u;

**Will you be going back to updating **_**Snowblind **_**regularly after the holidays?**

Well, I certainly hope so. I'm not going to make any promises, because it seems like every time I do I break them, but I _will_ be trying to get chapters out as fast as possible. The first trimester at my high school just ended a few weeks ago, so for now I don't really have any exams and am a lot less swamped. Like I said, I'll try to go as quickly as I can, but the updates will be out when they're out, okay? Okay.

**Are you giving out a/Christmas present(s) for your/a reader(s) at all?**

As a matter of fact, I am. I feel really bad about not being prepared for the fiftieth review (done by HeeHeeHee01, btw) so I'll be giving _two_ to her because of my lateness, and also **one each** to the **fifty-fifth** and **sixtieth reviews**, whenever they arise. The gift will be a **one shot of choice**, and if you don't like that idea we can think up something else. 3

And for those of you who are Hetalia USUK and/or Kizaya fans, I have a lil' sumin' sumin' coming up for you soon, too. ;)

**Why you didn't tell us you had a LiveJournal account?**

I did, actually, when I first made it a millennium ago. xD

I don't know if I didn't make myself clear or if people don't read AN's anymore or what, but somehow people missed it. orz My username for my LJ is in my profile here on ffdn, but to make things easier for you here you go. Just remove the spaces. c:

soriana. livejournal. com/

I very recently revamped everything on it (deleted old posts and created new ones, customized a new layout, changed my icon, etc.) so yeah. It's nowhere near as crappy as before, and is being updated from my phone regularly. If you have an LJ or want to create one, drop me a friend request, if you would. I'm feelin' the empty, man. /heart

**Why don't you ever update your Twitter account?**

/…No comment.

;u;

**You received a new fanart, didn't you?**

I did! D'aww, safhasdjg. It just warms my heart so much when you guys do that. This one was by the lovely Amy, and you can find the pic here (just remove the spaces):

amirafox. deviantart. com/ gallery /# /d328w2m

Thanks so much again, doll. My gratefulness for your support cannot be fathomed in words. c:

And that goes for all of you, too! Seriously guys. My writing is crap, but for some reason you seem to like it. All the same, just…thanks. I've been having a pretty tough week, and you all just make me feel 239849763 times better. /heart

Thank you all SO, _SO, __**SO **_much for being so patient with me – and, if you would like to give me a little Xmas present, y'know…*points inconspicuously to the ever-so-sexy review button* ;D

_**Have a lovely holidays, everyone! **_


	14. Queenie, Queenie, Who's got the Ball?

**Title:** Snowblind

**Author:** DeadSummerXx

**Characters/Pairing:** Izaya Orihara & OC

**Type:** Continuous (Incomplete)

**Genre:** Romance/General/Humor

**Word Count:** 6,213

**Rating:** M (contains content suitable for mature teens and older)

**Disclaimer:** Durarara! belongs to its respective owners.

**Summary:** In a trial of insanity and hope, the fine line between truth and lies is nonexistent, and even the smallest of errors can blind one into believing the unbelievable. But then again, of what worth is a game when one does not have a worthy opponent?

**Created on:** 1/5/11

**Completed on:** 1/26/11

**Chapter Last Revised on:** 1/26/11

**A/N: **I can't believe it's 2011 already. I feel so old. :U

Also, sorry for the slow update. School and vacation and my own personal life/health have been kicking my ass really hard lately, and I've barely had time/energy to write at all in the last month or so. /depressed faic

AND OMG GUISE COLORIS AND IZAYALWAYS ARE SO ADDICTING TOGETHER SDJASDJF;;GA

But thanks for sticking with this. It really means a lot, and I hope I don't disappoint any of you with what I have in store.

/coughasequelcough

/wat

**Playlist:**

_Perfect Enemy _by t.A.T.u

* * *

_Chapter Fourteen_

_**Queenie, Queenie, Who's got the Ball?**_

* * *

"Just drop me off here."

From his position in the driver's seat, Togusa glanced back at me, then moved his eyes to Kadota-san, questioning (I had learned that was Dotachin's actual name by accident when Erika had pressed the nickname too far), who frowned deeply at my words. "Why?" he asked. "We're less than two blocks from your house."

"That's exactly why," I replied in a quiet, strangled sort of voice. "It's already past five in the morning and my uncle might be awake. I don't want any more ruckus than necessary." Biting my lip, I glanced at Erika and Walker, who were busy giggling over Something I Did Not Want to Know about Because It Was Probably Extremely Traumatizing with Kaztano-san, AKA the somewhat insane escapee we had rescued hardly twenty minutes ago. Not to mention, I didn't want another two visitors popping up randomly in the middle of the night along with Orihara, and I wouldn't put it past Erika and Walker to stalk me and take pictures of me sleeping, either.

Orihara would probably be all too willing to help them out, too. Asshat.

Kadota-san was silent for a moment, quietly mulling over my reasoning with his thin mouth pressed firmly together in a stark line. "…Fine," he finally relented, and on cue Togusa slowed to a halt, grumbling something slow under his breath. I sent the both of them a grateful, tight-lipped smile in thanks. Unfolding my crossed legs, I was preparing to leave (read: escape), when I was tackled from the side, head banging for the nth time that night (morning?) on the door handle.

_Fucking hell,_ why did that hurt so much? Was it made of goddamn steel or something?

I groaned, biting my tongue to keep myself from glaring and cussing at Erika, who had wrapped herself around my midsection in a steely grip that promised swift asphyxiation if I didn't _get her off _of me soon. "E-Erika-san—" I barely managed to choke out, before Walker joined her by trapping the both of us in a bear hug, ever-present smile even creepier than usual in the waning moonlight.

"Suzumi-chaaaan!" Erika whined, and I grunted lowly as her grip tightened.

"Don't go!" Walker completed for her, and if I had been coherent enough to think anything besides "_Since when are such skinny guys so strong?"_ and _"Holyfuckmy_**spleen**_" _I might have noticed the sly wink he sent me over the brim of Erika's hat. But as it was, I settled with bemoaning the fate of my internal organs and trying to hold back the urge to wrestle them off of me. I didn't think that Togusa would much appreciate blood splattered on the interior of his precious van, after all—no matter how much it needed a serious makeover. (And some air fresheners too, because really. _Old Spice?)_

"Erika. Walker." Kadota-san's deadpan voice cut through my inner ramblings and Erika's not-so-inner monologue, effectively stilling any movement in the vehicle. "Let go of her."

They both pouted in unison for a moment, but still released me from their grip, Walker getting off of me first to take his place behind Kadota-san's seat next to Kaztano-san. Erika lessened her hold as well, but before I could fully shoo her away, she planted a quick kiss on my cheek despite the dried, caked blood coating it from my head injury—much to my utter humiliation and disdain.

"Let's play again sometime, okay?" She smiled that shiteating smile of hers, and I barely had time to wave to Kaztano-san (it was only polite, and not even my disorientation could obscure my ingrained sense of courtesy) before opening the sliding door and literally throwing me out to the sidewalk. I stumbled onto the pavement, nearly toppling over as I tried to regain my balance as the thin soles of my flats scraped painfully against the ground. Everything was happening so quickly I barely caught her excited "I'll send you a copy of the doujinshi of you and Izaya-chii when we're done with it, okay?" And then the door slammed shut again, Togusa making a sharp U-turn before it was even fully closed to take off down the street like a bullet.

The skin where Erika's lips had come in contact with my face burned as I hunched over awkwardly on the sidewalk for a few moments, trying to grasp the tattered frays of my thoughts where they had torn apart somewhere between the kiss and the mention of doujinshi and Orihara and me in the same sentence. When that failed miserably, I slumped down with a blank stare and let out a flat sigh.

Fuck it. I was just going to go home and sleep forever.

"You okay?" Toshiyuki asked, placing the paper he'd just finished grading on the countertop in front of him and eyeing me critically over the rim of his porcelain "World's Best Uncle" coffee mug—or, rather, the probably zombie-like expression I was currently wearing.

The fork in my hand blurred for the seventeenth time in the past five minutes, and I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from groaning and slamming my face down into my plate of waffles. (Syrup was an unbelievable bitch to get out of hair, and that was _The Last Thing_ I needed at that moment.)

"M'fine," I bit out thickly, waving (i.e., aimlessly flopping) a dismissive hand in his general direction. "Jus' a tad tired, is all." Blinking tightly at the sudden black spots that danced across my vision, I cursed Izaya Orihara for all that bastard was worth—which, admittedly, wasn't much, but fuck if the thought of punching the daylights out of him didn't make me feel better.

Toshiyuki sighed heavily, giving me The Disappointed Parent Look—the one that told me he thought I was lying. Which was true, but still. How the hell he picked up The Various Parent Looks in only a matter of a few months—not even!—was a complete mystery. "Why don't I believe you?" he frowned.

Grimacing, I let my fork fall to my plate with a pathetic clang. What was left of the waffles was cold by then, anyway. "Really, Oji-chama,"* I tried sugarcoating my words with the old nickname, though my attempt probably failed miserably thanks to the absolute fatigue creeping into my voice. "I'm just exhausted. It was a long Friday."

Something in my voice must have held a pleading to _just drop it_ or something because Toshiyuki thankfully left it at that. "Whatever you say," he deadpanned with a quirked eyebrow, but said nothing more and opted to return to scanning the paper.

Inwardly, I snorted. He didn't know the half of it.

When I'd finally gotten home last night, Toshiyuki was mercifully still sound asleep and completely oblivious (though there were a few times when I thought my life was completely over as I crept up to my room, especially when I was climbing those damn stairs and cleaning up the blood on my face and undressing to get into my pajamas), but unluckily for me sleep was something incredibly elusive. Even though I'd been up nearly a full twenty-four hours, my body was still highly strung from my romp across Ikebukuro and, though I hated to admit it, my thoughts were racing, mostly of Orihara and what Erika had told me about him.

He couldn't love me. He _didn't _love me. If he did, he wouldn't tease/torture (I honestly couldn't tell the difference between them at this point) me constantly, wouldn't have proposed our game, wouldn't mess with me just for the hell of it, wouldn't do even half the shit he did on a regular basis.

If anything, all of those screamed the very opposite of love.

But a part of me couldn't help but think back on all of those times he'd touched me, a casual brush of the hands or a full-out grope or a peck on the cheek. I'd thought they'd been nothing more than efficient ways to piss me off at the time, though in retrospect I wasn't so sure anymore. But the thought of Orihara actually _loving_—not just finding them interesting or fascinating or amusing—someone/something other than himself and ootoro just…just did not compute in the slightest.

I'd warred with myself over this for nearly all of the early morning hours, twisting my sheets into tangled knots from tossing and turning so much. Eventually, I fell into a restless slumber around eight or so in the morning, after even Toshiyuki had woken up. Luckily, he hadn't noticed my being awake, but it had taken me an extra half-hour to actually start sleeping after he'd left around seven-thirty. And even in my sleep Orihara wouldn't leave me alone, that asshole.

His face—that damnable, striking _face_—kept showing itself in my dreams, laughing and grinning and whispering sweet, dark nothings into my ears. It was bad enough I had to see him on almost a regular daily basis, but for him to also permeate my REM cycle too…It was just unacceptable, _especially _when it—_he—_affected my sleep so drastically to the point I'd slept in until four—_nine fucking hours_ after I'd fallen asleep. Toshiyuki was the one that had woken me up, actually, by shutting the front door and calling out to let me know I was home.

Before he'd come upstairs to see why I wasn't on the first floor, I'd barely had enough time to scramble blearily out of bed and into the bathroom. I was able to hide myself in there for a few minutes under the guise of brushing my hair after I had supposedly gotten it tangled in one of my hair bands, though, which gave me sufficient time to look a little bit less like a zombie and a little bit more like I hadn't slept in all day.

Toshiyuki most definitely didn't need to know _that._

He'd raised an eyebrow at my casual state of dress when I'd come out of the bathroom, of course—just an old Sex Pistols T-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants—because normally on weekends I'd get dressed to go out to meet with Blondie or Anri-san or Mikado-san, but I was able to pass it off as doing math homework instead. (I wished. I'd taken AP Geometry in my ninth grade year back in the US, and having to do it all _again_ as part of Raira standard district requirements was nothing short of a living Hell.)

I'd taken an hour or so to assist him in grading some papers afterward, actually. Though I knew it was part of our agreement, kind of like paying rent but with more strings attached, I did it more so to wake myself up a bit than anything else. Toshiyuki's students were a varied sort, some intelligent, some interesting, and some just plain ignorant. Though my uncle took care not to judge his students, claiming his job was to teach them instead, he and I both had quite a few good laughs over some of the things that his students had written—especially the one who had done their mid-term English thesis on the "assimbliminations off American culture inslide Japan country."

I don't think I'd seen such awful grammar and misplaced colloquialisms in my entire life, even when I was living in New York City.

Eventually, however, my stomach finally caught up with me by nearly eating itself, unable to be sustained on coffee alone. Thus, I was forced to make the closest thing in reach that seemed moderately appetizing, which happened to be waffles.

I still didn't understand why Toshiyuki placed the fridge/freezer right next to the island counter, but whatever. To each his own, I guessed.

But by the time the waffles had popped up from the toaster I'd already finished my coffee—and I was unable to get more because Toshiyuki was a coffee hog, that lovable bastard—and was already half asleep again. Apparently I was so out of it Toshiyuki had the gall to ask if I needed help pouring the syrup, a proposal which I reluctantly declined. (Since when were syrup bottles so fucking heavy, anyway?)

My waffles were cold when I'd managed to eat them, at any rate, which brought me to now—picking up the plate to bring it over to the sink on what might as well have been broken legs and ignoring Toshiyuki's eyes boring into my shoulder blades. Turning on the tap and garbage disposal with my elbow, I tilted the plate to empty the rest of the soggy waffles into the drain. They went down with a gross squelch, but I was too tired to grimace and shut it and the tap off after rinsing the plate. I set the ware down in the left basin for later washing before turning on my heel, heading toward the staircase to go up and take a shower in the hopes of waking me up for legitimately.

Toshiyuki's voice stopped me before I was able to set my foot on the first step, however, hand poised stiffly on the rail.

"I know you probably don't want to talk about it," he began quietly, and I felt a pang of what vaguely seemed like guilt run through me at his tone. "But I can see that something's bothering you. I'm not just your landlord, Suzumi. You _do_ know that, don't you?"

"…I know," I said automatically—but did I know, really? Had I ever told him about anything in my life other than "school's fine", "yeah, I have a lot of homework", or "I'm going out to meet with So-and-So, expect me back around dinnertime"? And even then, he was the one to initiate the conversation, and not once had I ever done so—not even asking about him, not since the first day I'd arrived in Ikebukuro and we'd caught up with each other after almost a decade.

If that could even be called "catching up", though, really. I'd made sure to keep the focus mostly on him, not wanting to reveal any of the shit I'd gone through with my father and his death or Anna and all of her shit or the fights or the hospital trips or the social worker scares or anything. Just "I'm glad to be here" and "it's nice to see you again", et cetera, et cetera. I'd never realized until now that I was so impersonal with him, the only true family I had left.

And it made me feel like a royal bitch.

Fuck, I was such a terrible person. Here Toshiyuki was worrying himself bald over me because I wouldn't tell him anything. And really, how fucking difficult was it to just open my mouth and _speak?_ Toshiyuki was _family_, for fuck's sake. It didn't matter that I preferred to tell people what I thought with actions rather than with words. He wasn't a mind reader, and he most definitely wasn't going to judge or ridicule or hit me or beat me. Toshiyuki was like the father and mother that had disappeared from my life all rolled into one, with the cool uncle perks on the side.

The words that needed to be said hung like weights on my tongue, goaded on by the thick silence between us, and I cursed myself for not being able to say them_—"I'm sorry"—"I love you"—"thank you"—"I'm an awful person for hurting you that way"—"I have issues with my personal life, but I'll try harder"—"I promise"—_but they all sounded like excuses in my head, and there was no way in hell I'd say them if I didn't mean them. Toshiyuki wouldn't buy half of them besides, I was sure. He wasn't stupid.

When Toshiyuki didn't say anything further, I swallowed thickly and quietly told him that I was going to take a shower.

I was running away again, and we both knew it, too.

After all but dashing up the stairs to avoid any additional confrontation, I'd arrived on the landing and made a beeline for the bathroom. I quickly closed the door behind me with an unintentionally deafening slam, my heart leaping into my throat at the sound. Thankfully I had half enough of a mind to switch on the lights before my eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, blinking helplessly as they watered painfully—and not from the brightness. I quickly wiped the tears away and steeled myself inwardly, not even wanting to think about why I was—_not_ crying, dammit.

I didn't deserve to cry, anyway.

Turning on the shower and peeling off my clothing were mechanical processes, my thoughts already compartmentalizing themselves into neat little files to be stored under a rug and long forgotten. My naked reflection in the wall-mirror caught the corner of my eye before I stepped into the stall, however, and I silently paused to stare as it slowly fogged over with steam.

Out of habit, my eyes were immediately drawn to the pale scar running the width of my navel. The scab had long since healed into a raised mark, but still I remembered all too vividly how it had come to mar the once relatively clear skin there. I could still feel the knife carving my flesh open once more, this time with deliberate slowness and relish, the ghost of Orihara's warm lips and teeth and tongue tracing its length. It was his way of marking me, I knew, of branding me as his own, and it made me feel soiled.

Shivering at the memory, I quickly averted my eyes and my thoughts elsewhere, which happened to be the visage of my solemn face_. Shit_, I could hardly recognize myself anymore, I realized with a belated shock.

I looked fairly the same as always, yes, with my not-too-long-but-not-too-short black hair and bangs and pasty skin and green-blue eyes and the same old not-too-ugly-but-not-too-pretty face, but something was different. It wasn't anywhere else on my body, that was for sure—my breasts were still not-too-big-but-not-too-small and well-shaped (if I did say so myself); my stomach was still flat, though not as toned as it used to be thanks to lack of regular physical exertion; my legs were still thin, hips still wide, shoulders still female-broad, the dark thatch of short curls covering my most intimate place still unchanged. Even the scabbing bruise I'd received the night prior was hidden behind my hair, noticeable only by me from the dull, throbbing pain that radiated there.

Brows furrowed, I hesitantly ran a feather-light touch down the flat of my abdomen, pausing as I brushed along the soft fringe of my hairline. The image of the makeshift necklace Orihara had given me with a quicksilver smirk flashed through my mind, and I started out of my daze with a quick, sharp inhale, hand quickly retreating back to my side with a slight tremor.

I shouldn't be doing—_that_ right now, not after giving in to an emotional conflict with Toshiyuki, of all people, and most especially not while thinking of—of _Orihara._ He was the root of most of my problems right now, and I could barely stand the thought of him after what had happened with him last night, and especially after what I had discovered _about_ him. I shook my head to clear myself of all traitorous thoughts, gritting my teeth in stubborn determination with all of the strength my jaw possessed. It hurt, yes, but it was more than worth it as a distraction.

By that point, the mirror was completely fogged over with steam. My reflection was nothing but a vague shadow, now, and my fingers twitched with the urge to rub it away. I refrained, however, letting out a heavy sigh. Mind going blank, I relaxed my mouth and rubbed my neck tiredly, the sliding door shut behind me with a dull _clack_ as I stepped inside the shower stall. The scalding spray of water hit me head-on, and despite the warmth, I shivered as it prickled underneath my chilled skin.

Showering was an automatic practice, my thoughts continuously distracted as they floated somewhere in between limbo and Orihara. (Honestly, though, was there really much of a difference between the two? I supposed it didn't matter, really, but they both ailed me with migraines each regardless—which was enough of a similarity in and of itself, especially considering my slight concussion.) Even when I accidentally smeared face wash into my eye I hardly noticed, the fiery sting far duller than the boiling in my stomach—and it wasn't from hunger.

It was confusion, something I hadn't felt in a long time.

The more I thought about it with a clear head, the more perplexed I became. What on Earth was Orihara planning? I didn't have all of the pieces to the puzzle, yes, but I had most of them, and that was more than enough of a reason to make me want to rip him a new one.

Orihara was an informant, supposedly closely involved in the bankrupt company Yagiri Pharmaceuticals, who was trying to gain more funds by executing illegal drug experiments on kidnapped misfits of society—that of which I was not (a misfit, that is. Er, for the most part, anyway), which, along with Orihara knowing about my kidnapping and setting me up for it, could only mean that Orihara had somehow manipulated the inner workings of the operation to include me on Yagiri's roll…which could also only mean that he knew someone (or multiple people) in the executive legion of the company, namely Namie Yagiri and her advisors.

Orihara's disappearance had been right after my kidnapping, too, so if he knew Yagiri so well, or was at least involved with the company, that had to have meant that he'd taken an absence from me to ease suspicion on Yagiri's part. And then there was the manner in which I was rescued the first time. I had a feeling that the infamous Black Rider didn't come upon the scene by happenstance, but that was just a gut feeling—one I'd come to closely associate with Orihara and the dangers he represented. If this was true, though, it also had to mean that he knew the Black Rider. I wouldn't underestimate him on even this.

Plus, it seemed as though Orihara had taken great care to hide his actions from me, too, but he had to have known that I would find out more about whatever the hell his plan was when he'd requested Kadota-san and Co. to look after me. So why would he have them kidnap me just to cover it up right afterward? On the theory that he was deeply involved with Yagiri Pharmaceuticals, he also had to have been aware that last night's rounds included someone that Kadota-san and Co. knew, and that they would go hunt down the kidnappers, and that _I _knew the kidnappers and would force information from them because he had left me so in the dark.

Fuck, how I hated his roundabout ways of doing things. It made absolutely no sense. Why would he do all of this? What reason could there possibly be? And most of all, why would he involve me in all of it? Orihara was an insane son of a bitch known for doing completely asinine things just for a good laugh, yes, but he was also an intelligent one. I highly doubted he would expend so much of his time and resources just for his own personal amusement. There had to be a bigger motive here, something that I was missing…

Rinsing myself off one last time, my hand gripped the shower handle with a fierce determination to stave the writhing in my gut, turning the water off. As much as I hated to admit it, there was only one way to find out what I needed to know.

Visiting Orihara's office in Shinjuku wasn't something I'd hoped would never happen again, but it had to be done.

Humming quietly to myself as I slipped my coffee, my fingers absently tapped away at the keyboard on my desk. The mid-afternoon Shinjuku sun shown through the wall-length window behind me, casting a shadow over my workspace, but I was too involved in what I was doing to care—too much, anyway. Even though it was slightly annoying, there were much more pressing matters clawing themselves into my mind.

Namely, what to do with Suzu-chan.

I had contemplated calling or texting her this morning after I'd woken up to gauge her reaction and to try to glean how much she'd discovered last night, but I'd stopped myself just short of doing so. While it was imperative to know how much she knew, waiting would let her stew longer for a more amusing outcome and it would also lend me more time to plan out the possibilities to react accordingly. I had to be extraordinarily careful about this, and not even our…_special_ relationship could disregard this fact. Double and quadruple checking each step—if not more—was essential.

One false move, and everything I'd been working on for the past five-and-a-half years would fall to pieces—and that was something I could by no means afford.

But in the interim, I had to focus on what was in front of me. Namie Yagiri was my frumpiest, most authoritarian client yet, and if I didn't have the newest file of to-be test subjects ready by the end of Sunday, there would be consequences—of that I was sure. I could handle them, of course, but I had enough on my plate at the moment as it was. Adding on unnecessary undertakings was completely asinine—no matter how much I hated doing paperwork and would much rather think about harassing Suzu-chan instead.

Taking a sip of my coffee, I removed my hand from the keyboard for a moment to idly finger my cell phone. The almost overpowering urge to ring my current fascination crept upon me suddenly, but I suppressed it (not without great distaste, however), instead opting to shut it off completely. The sleek red device powered down with an annoyingly upbeat jingle, but I was relieved when the screen finally faded to black all the same. I knew that I could turn it on with the press of a button, but the itch in the back of my mind would be abated. For now, at least.

Absently, I ran a fingertip down the handle of my coffee mug as I returned to my work on the monitor. File windows were scattered across the screen like a deck of cards scattered across a table, and as my eyes flickered down to the desktop bar to read the time—almost four-thirty in the afternoon—I took notice of the window count in the bottom left-hand corner.

Thirty-five windows; thirty-five people. Just barely under the new monthly quota, with one extra to compensate for the loss of Suzu-chan.

I smirked to myself unwittingly, compressing the first ten files into a zip folder with a dramatic click of the enter key as I remembered when I had added Suzu-chan to the register, and the feeling of devious satisfaction that had come afterward at having my plans go accordingly. She'd been entered under a pseudonym and false information (besides her appearance), though, of course. After all, I couldn't have her disappearing on me so soon into our little game. There was no doubt in my mind that, if she'd had the right stats, Namie would have hunted Suzu-chan down in the blink of an eye. The only thing more precious to her than her demented Seiji-kun (though who was I to judge?) was the company she'd inherited, and she was far too stubborn to let anything come between herself and that which was dear to her if she could help it.

But in this case she couldn't, and I took pride in being the only thing able to come between them. Namie was too fun to mess with, really—mainly because she was so helpless to do anything but conform to the manipulations around her rather than be the manipulator. The funny thing was, though, was that she liked to think she was the latter, and anytime I proved otherwise she became so…so _ruffled._

Suzu-chan, on the other hand, knew exactly where she stood and when. It was astounding, in all honesty, how different she was from anyone else around her, myself included. She was a manipulator in many ways, most of them physical, but never the manipulated. I had moved her around the figurative chess board, yes, but not without careful planning, and most certainly not without her making several moves of her own without me even predicting them. At the same time, however, she stood apart from the rest—an observer stuck in the midst of the conflict, but completely unaware of being the center of the allegorical cosmos herself.

In this, she and I were opposites—and yet, we were equals in so many ways. She presented challenges like I'd never encountered before by not even trying, and it was why I was so drawn to her. Her intelligence, her wit, her speed, her ability to keep up with, and, in some ways, out do me—that of which no one before her has ever been able to accomplish…All of it was so fresh, so new, so surprising, so _Suzumi_. It kept me on my toes like I'd never been kept before, and I couldn't get enough of it—of _her._

A sharp rap against the wall broke me from my thoughts abruptly. I looked up from my work, inwardly startled, to the source of the sound—and straight into the cold teal eyes of Suzumi Yanase.

Why, speak of the devil.

I felt a smirk slowly curl the length of my lips as she crossed her arms, leaning against the wall and frowning at me pointedly. She'd left her hair down today, and it fell around her shoulders in glossy, semi-damp raven waves, svelte fingers curling into their ends as they fisted themselves around her upper arms. It would be a flagrant lie to say she didn't look more…casual like this, but it would also be a flagrant lie to say it didn't make her look older—because it did. Somehow, it seemed as though she'd aged years overnight, outwardly already blooming into adulthood rather than her late teens.

Her voice was different, too, as she spoke. Subdued, almost, but with a darker, more refined quality that I'd never heard from her before, and it held an emotion that I could feel emanating from her in waves, even though I couldn't quite place exactly what it was.

"You should learn to lock your door," she said smoothly, quietly. It was a simple statement, one that a concerned someone might say to a close friend. But the look in her eyes told me that, in this context, it was just the opposite, and I felt a shiver of excitement stumble up my spine in a mad dash to connect with my misfiring synapses.

"And you should learn not to barge in on people uninvited," I retorted just as easily, nearly chuckling aloud at her raised brow. What I'd said was hypocritical, indeed—but that was the point. The ploy didn't seem to work on her like usual, however, and she simply pursed her lips with narrowed eyes, otherwise ignoring what I'd said. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to be offended in the slightest. "How did you get here, anyway? Your uncle must be experiencing an aneurism right about now, I should think."

She scoffed, like the answer should have been obvious. Her confidence—rather than defiance—was refreshing. "I took the train and walked, and my family is absolutely none of your business."

I snickered at her tone, amused. I liked where this was headed. "Oh? Then what brings you here?"

"I'm not much one for flirting around the topic at hand," Suzu-chan finally muttered, blunt as ever. Over the edge of my desk, I could see her shoes shift in my direction as though she wanted to step closer, but she didn't move an inch to bridge the room's-width distance between us.

However, I stomped down my slight victory/disappointment (which, I wasn't quite sure) and the urge to voice my sarcastic thoughts _("I hadn't noticed")_ in favor of replying before she could continue, "Is that so?" I leaned back casually in my office chair, pinning her with my trademark grin and completely elated when she shot me a dirty look.

"It is," she clipped back tersely at my interruption, but, other than that, remained composed. "I had a little _chat_ with your little _friends_ last night, actually, after you _abandoned _me _unconscious _in an_ alleyway _in the _wee fucking hours of the morning_."

Okay, maybe she wasn't as composed as I'd thought.

Lips twitching upward, I nonchalantly prompted further, "And?" It was rather difficult to remain as cool as a cucumber when all I wanted to do was laugh hysterically. Oh, how wonderful Suzu-chan was! She was coming to me, for once, rather than the other way around—and without me even predicting it!

She bristled at my blatant dismissal, openly seething now, all vestiges of complacency thrown out the window—though, for some odd reason, I could tell by her tense frame that she was trying her damnedest to bottle it in. Strange.

"_And_," Suzu-chan bit out, voice silky-dangerous as she took slow, deliberate steps toward my desk, "they told me about your little _ploy_. Bits and pieces of it, anyway. But then I put two and two together and discovered something quite _interesting."_ She came to a halt at the left-hand side of my desk, arms still crossed and working her teeth furiously.

I swiveled my chair to face her properly, leaning forward in my seat to look up at her with an impish grin. "And that would be?"

She opened her mouth to speak her mind at last, but before she could do so, a deafening knock on my apartment door cut her off. Her jaw snapped shut like a trap, immediately turning her back to the window to face the entry hall in a defensive pose as her hands uncurled themselves from around her arms. I tensed as well, brow furrowing as I wondered who could possibly be badgering me at this time of the day. I'd cleared my schedule of appointments this afternoon specifically to work on the Yagiri file, so no one was due for a visit. All the same, I had my suspicions, though the knot in my stomach and I hoped that they were dead wrong.

"Orihara! I know you're in there. I have important business to speak with you about."

I froze at the sound of a voice I knew all too well.

Well, so much for that theory.

At my lack of response, the door handle jiggled, and I nearly cursed aloud. _Shit, shit, shit_. Suzu-chan glanced at me with a bewildered glare, about to ask, "Who—?" but I silenced her with a hand over her mouth as I jumped up out of my seat, shoving her to her knees quickly after.

"Get under my desk," I whispered, smile wiped clean from my face. "Don't make a sound. Don't even _breathe_ if you can help it. And most importantly, _do not come out until I tell you to_."

The black-haired girl looked up at me with wide, almost frightened eyes, lips trembling wordlessly in question at my sudden change in behavior. She must have sensed the seriousness of the situation, however, for she quickly scooted into the small space my desk held for leg room, body folded awkwardly as she tried to adjust. A twinge of annoyance ran through me, but sat back down in my chair and quickly rolled it back into place just in time for the door to bang against the wall with a slam, revealing my current worst nightmare.

Namie Yagiri strode imperiously into my office, clutching a folder of papers in her right hand.

Underneath my desk, I could feel Suzu-chan tense against the side of my calf as her footsteps drew closer, and I bent forward so that my elbows rested comfortably atop the hardwood. Arching my fingers to steeple them underneath my chin, I greeted my new guest with a slick smile, though it felt as though my stomach had plummeted to the bottom of the Earth.

Oh, was this getting good.

*chama is a suffix born from the suffixes sama (lord) and chan (a juvenile endearment) and is something mostly small girls use—i.e., what Suzumi used when she was younger

It felt weird describing Suzumi naked. The sad thing is, though, that I've wanted to write her like that for a long time.

At least this story finally (kinda) deserves the M rating? ._.

**Why did you title this chapter **_**Queenie, Queenie, Who's got the Ball?**_

You can read the wiki article on the game here: en. Wikipedia. org/ Queenie, _Queenie, _who's _got _the _ball % 3F

Basically, Suzumi is "Queenie", and has thrown the "ball" (questions) up in the air, and must now choose who caught the questions – basically, which person has the answers, and now that she has them she must decide what to do with them. This also ties in with the power-struggle between her and Izaya.

**Did you get a C2 for **_**Snowblind**_**?**

KFSADF YES. HOLYSHET GUISE ILU SO MUCH SKAJHFASF. I got a C2 in the community Romance in Ikebukuro, which is a DRRR! OC-centric com dashfsf. I feel so honored. ;A; Thank you so much guise guise guise ilusohardaghgdfgaegfasgf—/asplodes errwhere

Next up is the 100+ reviews community ffff I'd never have evevrvrerverver thought getting in there would be moderately possible for me but with an average of about six reviews a chapter if it continues like that then it'll only be lessee six more chapters until I reach one hundred but hey I got sixteen reviews last chapter compared to a max of seven and a minimum of two on the rest so who knows and I'm also over **11,000 views** here _holyfuck_ and now I'm just rambling because I'm so excited andandandandafkjhdafsd iluguisesoharrrrrrrd.

**Where's all the lip action?**

Bahaha. I got a review from the anonymous _tsuki-chan_ about this last chapter asking when Izaya and Suzumi will kiss. I don't want to give much away, but there won't be any smooching until, say, chapter 20 or 25 or so. We'll just have to see how well I plan this out, but kissing definitely won't be for a while…eventhoughI'vealreadywrittenitbwahahaha.

**How are your giftfics coming?**

For the most part, all I have of them are just rough drafts/outlines. Like I said, I haven't had much time to write _at all_, but I'm going to try my best to make sure that they'll be done in the next month or so. I just hope that the receivers can stay patient with me, because life is quite a bit sadsdjfg right now. ;m;

**Is it just me, or were there heavy implications (read: blatant admissions) of there being a sequel to **_**Snowblind**_** in this chapter's A/N's?**

…Maybe. CB /sneakyninjaface

I really can't put my appreciation in to words, though. I know I say that pretty much every chapter, but just. Guh. Maybe it's just because I'm a big sap, but I practically cry every time I get a review. You are all so amazing andadadasnffds. ;A; /can't even think straight

In short, thank you all so much for reading, and please review. ;w; /wibbles


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